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MIRRIKH 

OR 

A WOMAN FROM MARS 


A TALE OF OCCULT ADVENTURE 



Francis Worcester doughty 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK 

THE BURLEIGH & JOHNSTON COMPANY 

30 GREAT JONES STREET 


COPYRIGHTED IN 1892 


— BY — 

BURLEIGH & JOHNSTON 


COMPANY. 


MIRRIKH. 


• 

BOOK I. 

LISVIXATION. 


CHAPTER L 

PANOMPIN. 

In 1870 I was at Panompin. 

But for this — and it was only by accident that I chanced to 
be there — my part in the singular adventures which I am 
about to narrate would never have been played. 

Not that there existed any reason why I should not be at 
Panompin in the year mentioned ; still it seemed strange 
to be wandering alone about the streets of the Cambodian 
capital free from all responsibility, when only two short 
months before I had been loaded down with a burden of 
care which promised to be never-ending, and I would just 
as soon have thought then of going to the moon. 

Permit me before proceeding any further to introduce 
myself. 

I am George Wylde, ex- American Consul at Swatow. 
The addition of the prefix to my official title was purely of 
my own seeking. I felt that I had seen enough of Swatow, 
and of China too, for that matter. I resigned simply be- 
cause I wanted to get away. 

My reasons — well, I suppose they must be stated, and I 
may as well undertake the disagreeable task first as last. I 
had trouble with my wife, serious trouble which had been 
constantly increasing during the five years of our married 
life. This trouble had culminated in a way that would 


4 


MIRRIKH. 


have wrecked the lives of most men. My wife appropriated 
as much of my personal property as she could readily lay 
her hands upon, and in company with an English adventur- 
er left Swatow for parts unknown. 

Thank God there were no motherless children left behind 
her, our only offspring had been taken from us before we 
left New York. 

How she wept on that cold October afternoon when we 
laid the little fellow in Greenwood ! How she clung to me, 
how — but there, I have no more to say about it. When she 
went I swore that I would tear her image alike from my 
heart and memory — that I would never raise my finger to 
find her. I simply let her go. 

It was getting dark when I returned from my spin on the 
Mesap that evening, and in Cambodia the twilight does not 
last long. I remember I had considerable difficulty in 
making my way among the mass of native boats which 
lined the shore, and was not a little preplexed to find the 
particular float from which I had started, for the low, 
bamboo huts, with their sloping roofs of thatch all looked 
alike to my unaccustomed eyes, and it was difficult to tell 
one from the other. At last, however, I found it, and 
making fast, leaped ashore. 

Lighting a cheroot I drew on my coat and soon found 
myself strolling leisurely along the principal street of Pan- 
ompin, elbowed by Chinamen, Klings, Siamese, all easily dis- 
tinguishable from the native Cambodians by their peculiar 
costumes and facial distinctions. I was intent upon my 
thoughts, which concerned chiefly the contents of the 
windows of the bamboo shops beside me, for just then I 
was contemplating a descriptive work upon the manners 
and customs of Farther India ; and I had long since ac- 
customed myself to habits of observation for a traveller 
with a retentive memory even the most casual stroll is never 
taken in vain. 

The main thoroughfare of the city runs north and south 
along the river, and I had proceeded for a considerable 
distance — was almost in sight of King Norodom’s palace, 
in fact, when a person brushed past me who certainly was 
neither Chinese, Kling nor Cambodian, and at the same 
time was as different from a European as an Englishman 
from a citizen of Timbuctoo. 

A man dressed after the fashion of the wealthy native 


MIRRIKH. 


5 


gentleman of Calcutta, half European, half Oriental. But 
for the somewhat exaggerated white turban which covered 
his head, there was nothing about his apparel which need 
have attracted attention in the streets of Panompin or any 
other city in the East, save in one particular — the whole 
lower portion of his face, from the nose down, was conceal- 
ed behind a black silk covering that extended high up on 
the cheeks, being secured by cords passing around the ears. 
The cloth did not cover the ears, but fitted close beneath 
them ; it also passed completely around the neck, conceal- 
ing it from view, which left only the upper part of the face 
visible. This was yellowish — not yellow as a Chinaman’s 
face is yellow, but more like a Cuban’s, or Spanish Amer- 
ican’s. The eyes were small, black and piercing, yet mild 
and full of intelligence. Certainly there was nothing dis- 
agreeable about the face — what was to be seen of it, at least 
— rather the reverse. 

I was puzzled. Women with partially veiled features are 
no novelty to an old traveller like myself ; but a man — well, 
here was something I had never seen before. 

But my interest in this mysterious individual was not long 
enduring. In a moment or two I had dismissed him from 
my thoughts with the conclusion that he probably had ex- 
cellent reasons for covering the lower part of his face. 
“ Some dreadful disfigurement,” I reflected, for such things 
are common enough in the East; and I sauntered on. 

My mind was in that peculiar frame which often seizes us 
after some great calamity. We know that the worst has 
happened; we comprehend that the long anticipated has at 
length been realized; that we are upon the other side of the 
mountain of awful possibilities conjured up during weeks, 
months, years, perhaps, of anxious expectation, and we say 
to ourselves that it is all over, it cannot be changed; if there 
is no hope at least no cause for further anxiety exists. There 
are states when the over-taxed brain demands rest and will 
have it. I was in such a state just then. 

Positively I could not think connectedly for five minutes 
upon any subject without that sensation of tightness above 
the eyes which tired brain-workers know so well. Even to 
speculate upon the mystery of that covered face made my 
head ache, and I therefore dismissed the subject abruptly 
and turned my attention to the shop windows again, wander- 
ing on through the crowd until I found myself at last in the 


6 


MIRRIKH. 


neighborhood of the pagoda, a ruinous old affair, that I had 
already visited, surrounded by image houses, in one of which 
is an immense gilded Buddha with mother of pearl finger 
nails and eyes. 

Both the mound upon which it stands and the pagoda 
itself are built of curious little bricks, and from the summit 
of the former a splendid view of the city, and even as far as 
the great Makong river, can be had. Any one is at liberty 
to visit the pagoda; the prejudices of religion sit very lightly 
upon these Cambodians. I was just debating whether it 
would not be a good idea to climb the steps and look down 
upon Panompin by moonlight, when a sudden shouting behind 
aroused me from my reverie and set me on the alert at once. 

There was some excitement further down the street; I 
could see an angry crowd surging, and almost in the same 
instant I caught sight of a tall figure running toward me. 
It was the man with the concealed face. 

Off the main street lights were not plentiful. Looking 
back I now perceived that the mob was coming in my direc- 
tion; but I had scarcely time to reflect upon this when the 
man was at my side and I saw that his face was no longer 
hidden. 

As any attempt to describe my amazement when I looked 
upon that face would fail to do it justice, I will simply state 
that the object of the singular mask was now apparent. The 
lower part of the face was beardless and black. 

‘^Friend, you are an Englishman — for God’s sake help 
me!” he exclaimed, pausing for an instant. ‘‘ I met with 
an accident back there — they are chasing me — they may kill 
me unless I can manage to get out of their sight.” 

What had happened to the man ? His turban was gone 
as well as his mask, his clothing was torn and covered with 
dust. As he stood beside me I noticed that he carried a 
small hand bag — the kind that we Americans call a grip 
sack ” — on one side of which was a splash of blood. 

Now, I thought I knew something about a Cambodian 
mob, for only the week before I had seen an unfortunate 
Chinaman chased through the streets of Panompin and 
almost torn limb from limb, though for what offense I did 
not learn, and I saw at a glance that unless something was 
done, and that pretty quickly, the man who had appealed to 
me would be beyond need of help. 

As it happened, the residence of the American Consul was 


MIRRIKH. 


7 


not far distant, and by good fortune the consul was my most 
valued friend. If I could contrive to get this man to the 
consulate he was safe for the time being at least. 

“ This way,” said I, without an instant’s hesitation, point- 
ing toward a street leading off on our right. The next 
moment we were running side by side with the shouts of the 
mob ringing in our ears. 

‘‘ Where are you taking me? ” he demanded in excellent 
English. 

‘‘To the American consulate. It is but a few steps.” 

“Good! I shall be safe there. It was only an accident, 
and I am sure no one can regret it more than I do.” 

“What happened?” I asked, eyeing him curiously. 

For a moment he made no answer but turned a pair of 
deep set, black eyes upon me with a persistence of gaze 
positively painful. In vain I tried to withdraw my own 
eyes from his, but it was quite impossible. I had heard of 
men who could fascinate by a look. Was I face to face 
with such a person now? Be that true or false, the face 
before me was certainly a puzzle — a wonder if it was natural, 
which I could scarcely credit then. 

The line of demarcation was wavy, running just below the 
ears, half way toward the nose, and then striking obliquely 
downward to the corner of the mouth, being the same on 
both sides. Above the line the skin was yellowish white, 
lighter about the forehead than lower down; below the line 
the darkness suddenly became an intense black; this in- 
cluded the lower lip and chin, part of each cheek and the 
throat. I wondered if it extended to the body, but the fact 
that the hands were of the same shade of color as the fore- 
head seemed to indicate that such could not be the case. 
Altogether the face was an enigma; yet there was nothing 
repulsive about it. Nothing could make that face repulsive, 
for the features were singularly perfect and beneath the 
heavy, eyebrows beamed the intelligence of those peculiar 
eyes. Have I mentioned that the hair was long, straight 
and intensely black? ” 

A moment passed and he removed his gaze, to my great 
relief. 

“ I have a defect of sight,” he said calmly. “ In crossing 
the street back there I accidentally stumbled over a little girl 
whom I did not see. I fancy she was not much hurt, but 
as I stooped down to help her up two fellows set upon me 


8 


MIRRIKH. 


and before I knew it I was down myself — the only wonder 
is they did not kill me. I thought they would. You can 
see with what effect I was forced to use my only weapon, 
this bag.” 

‘‘ But surely the police — ” I began, when he immediately 
interrupted me. 

The police? They would give me no help. You are an 
intelligent man. I need not call your attention to the fact 
that my face is peculiar. I usually hide it, but they tore off 
its covering, and nothing else was needed to set them upon 
me like a pack of wolves. Are we almost there ? ” 

We ought to be within a stone’s throw of it now,” I re- 
plied, when it suddenly dawned upon me that I had made a 
mistake. Instead of taking the street on which the consul- 
ate was situated, I had unwittingly turned down the next 
one, and now it seemed almost too late to repair my blund- 
er, for the mob had turned the corner, and, catching sight 
of us, were rushing on like so many mad dogs, shouting as 
they came in a fashion that was anything but reassuring. 

This is a bad business. We are going wrong!” I burst 

out. 

I could feel his hand tremble as he clutched my arm. 

‘‘ Don’t tell me that,” he panted. ‘‘ You don’t know what 
it is to be differently made from other men. My friend, I 
have been through this sort of thing before — one cannot 
always hope to escape.” 

Before matters come to a crisis they shall have the 
opportunity of looking down the muzzle of my revolver,” 
I answered. ‘‘ Look, here we are on the wrong street — we 
must cut across somehow to the next.” 

“ And then? ” 

Then we shall be directly in front of the consulate.” 

It must be done. Look behind there — you can see we 
have only a moment. Shall we try this alley? It may take 
us through.” 

The alley was a narrow passage between two of the 
largest houses I ever remember observing in Panompin. It 
was dark at the entrance and barely wide enough for us 
both to walk abreast, but down at the further end a flicker- 
ing light dimly burned. 

Positively I can’t say whether I gave assent or not ; I 
only remember that the next moment we were running 
along the alley and I was beginning to fancy that we had 


MIRRIKH. 


9 


given our pursuers the slip, when my hopes were dashed by 
hearing their shouts behind us. Klings, Chinamen and 
Cambodians were pouring into the alley like sheep. 

The situation had now grown desperate. My singular 
companion saw this as well as I. 

“Too bad! too bad!” he muttered. “My plans are 
ruined. See, friend, we’ve made another blunder. Here’s 
a wall which neither of us can climb. ” 

I gave an exclamation of disgust, for directly in front of 
us stretched the wall, a good twelve feet high, cutting off 
our retreat completely. We had run into a veritable cul-de- 
sac. 

“ It means fight now! ” I exclaimed. “ I’ll stand by you. 
Are you armed? ” 

“ No, no! If I was I would not shoot down one of those 
poor wretches for the world.” 

“ You must do something quickly.” 

“ And you? ” 

“ I am not afraid of them.” 

“ I wish I could help you,” he said, eyeing me strangely. 
“ If you do not fear for yourself, I fear for you. I am the 
taller. Perhaps I can spring up and catch the top of the 
wall and so pull you after me.” 

He dropped the hand bag upon the ground and leaped 
up, missing the coping of the wall. 

“ No use! ” he exclaimed. “They are here! May God 
help you my friend, I cannot — therefore I leave you. A 
thousand thanks for your kind intentions. Farewell! ” 

What ailed me — what ailed my man with the parti-color- 
ed face? 

It would have been useless to ask me then, for at that 
time even the claims of the Buddhist adepts were unknown 
to me. 

If any one had attempted to describe what happened as 
something actually having taken place, who would have 
been readier than I to set him down as a lying imposter or a 
fool ; and yet — 

But I find it quite impossible to speak as I could wish. 
Here is what occurred under the wall at the end of the 
alley, as I saw it — nothing less, nothing more. 

Astonished at the words of my strange companion, know- 
ing as I knew that the next moment must bring me face to 
face with the mob even then rushing down the alley, I was 


lO 


MIRRIKH. 


about to speak, when it suddenly struck me that the man’s 
lace had undergone a change. 

It was growing thin and shadowy, his whole body also 
seemed to be assuming a certain vapory indistinctness, to 
become etherealized, so to speak. 

As he stood there motionless before the wall, I gazed at 
him in speechless amazement. Was it actually as I saw it, 
or was the trouble with my own brain? 

He seemed to be sinking slowly downward, his feet and 
legs disappeared, seemingly dissolving as he went, until 
nothing but the head rested on the ground. 

I was horrified, amazed beyond all telling. 

Meanwhile every surrounding object retained its distinct- 
ness — the lantern above the wall burned as brightly as before. 

From that dreadful head I struggled to remove my gaze 
in vain. Thinner and still more shadowy it became, until 
suddenly, as a puff of wind wafts away the last flickering 
flame of a burnt-out candle, it vanished. 

The man had faded away before my eyes, leaving me to 
face the mob alone. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE SHADOWS OF THE NAGKON WAT. 

The mists still hung thick above the forests when we 
reached a resting place on those seemingly interminable 
steps and leaned panting for breath against the embrasure 
of one of the little windows up near the top of the grand 
central pagoda of the Nagkon Wat. Far below us — two 
hundred and fifty feet is said to be the height of the pagoda 
— lay the tropical jungle, with its nodding atap palms alive 
with the screams of monkeys, the notes of peacocks, quails 
and parrots, a dense mass of green stretching off as far as 
the eye could reach. At our feet was the inner court of 
that strange old temple, the very name of whose builders is 
lost in the mists of ages, the sloping roofs, projecting cor- 
nices and crumbling columns gilded by the first rays of the 
rising sun. 

^^Too late!” exclaimed Maurice De Veber ; ^Hoo late 


MIRRIKH. 


1 1 

George ; old Sol is up before us. Next time you arouse 
me from my peaceful slumbers to witness a Siamese sunrise, 
I shall know enough to refuse to lend myself to your mad 
schemes. Why there’s not a particle of breath left in my 
body, to say nothing of the condition of my legs.” 

‘‘Peaceful slumbers, indeed!” I replied, contemptuously. 
“ For my part, what with the mosquitoes and the howling 
of the jackals I haven’t slept a wink all night. Who was it, 
pray, that insisted upon dragging me two hundred miles into 
the wilderness to visit those miserable ruins ? And now you 
complain because I make you share my discomforts. Come, 
Maurice, that’s not fair.” 

Maurice laughed. 

“ My friend,” he said, “ I take it all back. It’s grand, 
it’s glorious! I am beginning to breathe now, and my legs 
are rapidly returning to their normal condition. It is worth 
two years of a man’s life to gaze upon this view ten min- 
utes. I for one do not regret my climb.” 

But as for myself, I was indifferent. Two months had 
elapsed since my singular adventure in the streets of Pan- 
ompin. Two months more had been given me to forget my 
troubles, yet they had not been forgotten. I needed some- 
thing besides the dreamy existence I had been leading in 
the society of my friend Maurice De Veber to drive them 
from my thoughts. 

On that night my escape from the mob had been less 
difficult than might be supposed. 

It was not me they were after ; besides they took me for 
a Frenchman, I fancy, and to interfere with a Frenchman in 
Cambodia would be a very dangerous matter. 

When at last I succeeded in pushing my way through 
the excited throng and found myself at the door of the 
American consulate, I discovered that I still held the little 
hand bag which had been dropped by the stranger and 
which I must have picked up, although I have no recollect- 
ion of having done anything of the sort. 

I was dazed — absolutely confounded. 

What I had seen I had seen. In one moment that man 
with his peculiar face had stood before me ; his eyes had 
looked into my eyes ; he had spoken ; he had pressed my 
hand; and in the next he had disappeared as completely as if 
he had never been. 

Where? How? 


12 


MIRRIKH. 


Absolutely there was no explanation of the mystery; and 
the next day when I visited the alley, making a most crit- 
ical examination, I found myself still further mystified. 

At its end was the wall which the man had failed to 
climb. On the right rose the solid bamboo side of a 
Chinese merchant’s warehouse, while on the left was the 
side wall of another warehouse, and as both faced the other 
street with neither window or door opening on the alley, 
what conclusion was I to draw? 

'‘Pshaw! The sun has affected your head George,” said 
Maurice when I told him about it. "You had better take 
a dose of quinine and keep indoors out of the night air. 
The fellow may have had a most extraordinary birth-mark. 
I’m willing to admit, but you may be sure he managed to 
scale the wall while you were looking back at that crowd. 
Probably he’ll turn up to-day and claim his bag, explaining 
the whole affair.” 

But he did not. 

Day after day elapsed and still nothing was heard of the 
man. 

I fairly forced poor Maurice into making inquiries about 
him, and he, as American consul at Panompin, had every 
facility for gaining information if it was to be had. 

A few persons had observed a tall, peculiar appearing 
man, with the lower part of his face concealed under a black 
cloth, walking along the main street of Panompin that night, 
but no one was able to furnish the slightest information as 
to who he was, or where he came from ; nor could I con- 
vince myself that anyone had seen him after he left me at 
the 'end of the alley in that strange and altogether . unac- 
countable fashion. 

Meanwhile the days came and went. Maurice busy with 
his consular engagements grew tired of hearing me talk 
about the affair, and so I ceased to mention it. I hung the 
bag upon a nail in my sleeping room, but as it was locked, 
I made no attempt to open it, for I have a particular dislike 
to prying into other people’s business— besides it was very 
light and probably contained nothing but a change of clothing. 

In fact the matter had begun to fade from my memory, 
and growing tired of the monotonous, idle life I was leading 
at Panompin, I was planning to go to Calcutta with the idea 
of engaging in business, when one afternoon Maurice burst 
into the room where 1 sat reading, blurting out : 


MIRRIKH. 


13 


Now then, old fellow, here’s something to make you 
forget your troubles. I have the promise of a passage in a 
steamer bound up to lake Thalaysap and the Siamrap 
river. I am going to take a month’s vacation and visit the 
world-famed ruins of Angkor — will you go along ? 

‘^Go!” 

Why I would have gone to the South Pole with Maurice 
De Veber willingly, and yet he was only a chance aquaint- 
ance, after all. 

We had met two years before on a steamer plying be- 
tween Swatow and Hong Kong, to which latter port I was 
bound upon certain official business, I had been attracted 
by his manly figure, dark, handsome face, and regular 
features, from the moment I first laid eyes on him at the 
supper table, just after we left Swatow; and when I found 
he was an American and a New Yorker, of course an ac- 
quaintance sprang up at once. 

Maurice was a splendid fellow; positively my ideal of 
young American manhood. What, therefore, did it matter 
that I had seen forty years and he not more than twenty- 
five? 

You see there was a great void in my heart waiting to be 
filled by some one. It was the place my wife might have 
filled, should have filled, but at that time the very sight of 
womankind was disgusting to me. I execrated the sex; in 
my lonely hours of self-communion I had brought my mind 
into that condition where I looked upon every married man 
as one to be pitied; where I longed for my vanished youth 
and its opportunities, where I reversed the order of nature, 
and despising the affection of woman, sighed for that of the 
brother or the faithful friend. Positively my mental state, 
just then, must have bordered upon insanity, for I never had 
but one brother and he was a drunkard and a most precious 
rascal, and as for my early friends there was not one I could 
name who had not used me in a shameful way. 

Long before we reached Hong Kong I stood ready to 
give Maurice De Veber my head if he had asked it, and I 
know that I made myself noticeable by the way I followed 
him about. 

Still he seemed to like it without making the least pretence 
of returning the absurd affection which I could scarcely help 
displaying for him. 

Possibly some one had said to him, “ that old fellow 


14 


MIRRIKH. 


Wylde is as rich as a Jew.” I should not wonder, for there 
were those on board who knew me, and the snug little 
fortune left me by my father had been greatly exaggerated 
among my associates in China. Indeed, I often thought of 
that, and I found the thought making me so miserable that 
I was positively relieved when we reached Hong Kong and 
our intimacy was broken off. 

‘‘Good-bye,” said Maurice, as I took leave of him on the 
deck of the Singapore steamer, in which he had taken pas- 
sage for Saigon, from there to proceed to Panompin, where he 
had just been appointed consul. “Good-bye! If you get 
tired of Swatow take a run down to Cambodia and pay me 
a visit. Bring Mrs. Wylde with you and I’ll promise to 
entertain you both as well as a poor bachelor can.” 

Well, when the crisis came, I took the run down to Cam- 
bodia, but I did not bring Mrs. Wylde. 

Of course I am morbid. I know it. Very likely if I had 
been different my wife would have been different. There 
are those who do not hesitate to say so, and doubtless they 
are right. 

But I am what my hereditary tendencies have made me; 
or perhaps I should say, what, by a careful fostering of those 
tendencies, I have made myself. I had longed to be free 
from the chains which held me down, but now that freedom 
had actually come I found myself bound by chains still 
more powerful — regret for what had been, thoughts of what 
might have been, sad memories of the past. 

Not but what Maurice tried to make life pleasant for me 
at Panompin. 

He did everything that a man could do, and I honestly 
believe that by this time he had conceived as sincere an 
affection for me as it is possible for a young man to feel for 
a comparative stranger so much his senior. 

Indeed, I believe that the trip to Angkor was arranged 
for my especial benefit, for it was I and not he who had 
expressed a desire to visit that wonderful city of the ancient 
Buddhists, which has lain buried in the dense forests of 
Cambodia for more years than man can count. 

We were off within an hour, for the opportunity had pre- 
sented itself suddenly and had to be embraced at once if at 
all. Indeed, our departure from Panompin was so hasty 
that we had barely time to throw together the necessary 
articles of clothing, leaving our heavier baggage to be 


MIRRIKH. 


15 


brought up by Maurice’s Chinese servant, in a native boat, 
which was to go up to the lake on the following day. 

This was the dawning of our fourth day at the ruins — 
the others had been spent in exploring the great temple, 
studying its bas-reliefs and unreadable inscriptions, silent 
memorials of a forgotten race. 

Yes, the enjoyment should have been all mine, not his; 
and to a certain extent it was so. Even in my unhappy 
frame of mind I could not gaze down from that height 
unawed at the mighty monuments of a lost people which 
lay beneath us; nevertheless they had failed to amuse me as 
I had hoped. 

“ Hark ! ” exclaimed Maurice suddenly, as we stood there 
gazing off upon that ocean of green, tinged at the horizon 
with a broad dash of orange, deepening in its lower lines 
into crimson; hark, George 1 Don’t you hear someone 
on the platform above us ? I am certain I heard a step.” 

“ I thought I heard something a moment or two ago,” 
I replied, ‘‘ but I hear nothing now.” 

‘‘ Nor I, but I did as I spoke.” 

“ It is very unlikely that any of those lazy priests can 
have gone up before us,” said I, alluding to the dull-eyed 
old Cambodians, who, dwelling in the group of low^thatched 
huts far below us, have charge of the temple. “ Unless 
something special calls them they have shown no anxiety to 
leave their rice and betel since we’ve been at Angkor.” 

True, George; and yet I heard ” 

What my dear fellow ? ” 

‘‘ Some one praying, I think — at least it sounded that way, 
though I couldn’t understand the words.” 

Then your hearing is a precious sight more acute than 
mine, Maurice,” I answered. “ I thought I heard some one 
shuffling about on the platform above us, but praying — 
nonsense ! Don’t fancy those fellows would climb that ter- 
rible stairway simply to mutter a prayer which could be just 
as well mumbled before the big statue of Buddha in the 
room below.” 

Maurice laughed shortly and leaning forward attempted 
to look up to the next platform above. He was, however, 
able to distinguish nothing. 

Understand the design of the three great towers of the 
Nagkon Wat; it is necessary for the full comprehension of 
that which is to follow. Briefly I may describe them as 


i6 


MIRRIKH. 


vast, circular stone terraces, platform placed upon platform, 
each slightly receding from the one beneath, until the apex 
of the cone is reached. The central and largest of these 
remarkable piles, Maurice, when he first caught a glimpse of 
it, compared to a huge Papal tiara — no inapt comparison, 
by the way, for it certainly looked more like that than any- 
thing else. In spite of the distance we had climbed, there 
still remained three of the platforms to be passed before the 
top could be reached. 

“ George, you don’t know these Buddhist priests,” Mau- 
rice said musingly. Lazy and indifferent as they appear, 
they are the most inveterate fanatics on earth. If it were a 
part of their religion to witness the sunrise from the top of 
this tower on this particular day, they would move heaven 
and earth to get here — they would crawl up step by step on 
their knees, if they could gain their end in no other way.” 

I saw enough of them in China, to understand pretty 
well what they are like,” I replied. 

Indeed you did not. The Chinese Buddhists are differ- 
ent. With them religion has little or no meaning. Like 
some of our Christians they make it but a fetich; a bald 
formula of words and ceremonies which they are alike too 
ignorant and too indifferent to understand.” 

“And are these people different.?” I asked skeptically. 

“Very different. I have made a study of them since I 
have been in Cambodia. Of course with the masses it is 
the same the world over. The Chinese are too practical, 
too worldly to make deep spiritual thinkers, but among the 
higher classes of Buddhists in Farther India there are 
minds capable of the deepest metaphysical reflection; minds 
stored with an accumulation of spiritual knowledge such as 
you and I are utterly unable to comprehend.” 

“Bosh!” I exclaimed, lighting a cheroot. “Why to hear 
you talk, old fellow, one would think you were a convert to 
Buddhism. What are these Buddhists but a parcel of ig- 
nomnt idolaters, worshiping gods of wood and stone, which 
neither see nor hear nor think nor smell, as the Scripture 
says somewhere. Positively, Maurice, you surprise me — you 
do indeed.” 

He sighed, gazing upon my face with a certain far-away 
look that I had often observed in his eyes, and had as often 
set down to a morbid dreaminess of character which he 
certainly possessed at times. Thrusting his hands into his 


MIRRIKH. 


17 


vest pocket he pulled out a small silver coin, a piece a little 
smaller than our American quarter dollar, and passed it 
over to me. Upon one side it bore a representation of the 
zodiacal constellation pisces, on the other were Persian 
characters, the meaning of which I was, of course, unable to 
understand. 

George, what is that ? ” he asked in the same dreamy 
fashion. 

One of your Hindoo coins, of course,” I answered, 
wondering what he was driving at. I think you told me 
it was one of a series called the Zodiac rupees.” 

Precisely. I told you so, and having faith in me you 
believe my assertion.” 

“ Certainly.” 

Would you have known that those seemingly unmeaning 
marks on the reverse were Persian letters if I had not told 
you ? ” 

^^No; but of course I should have known they were 
Oriental letters of some sort.” 

^‘Very likely; because so far and no further has your 
education in such matters advanced. But suppose you 
were to take that coin and show it to a New York long- 
shoreman who did not know you, and consequently had no 
faith in you ; suppose you were to assure him that those 
marks were letters, what conclusion do you suppose he 
would draw ? ” 

Either that I was making sport of him or that I was a 
fool.” 

‘‘Then there you have it. As the longshoreman is to 
the coin so are we to the Buddhist philosophic acumen of 
the East. To our minds their doctrines are rubbish, absurd 
to the last degree. Why ? Simply because we are incap- 
able of comprehending them ; because we are wholly un- 
accustomed to their methods of thought. Remember this 
much ; when our forefathers were savages, these people 
were enjoying the height of a glorious civilization. When 
the naked Britons drove the hosts of Caesar into the sea, 
Angkor was old, and, for all we know, even then deserted. 
George, it required a motive to build this massive pile, as 
well as unlimited treasure, architectural skill and physical 
strength. What was that motive ? Religion ! A profound 
sense of the littleness of man and the greatness of the God 
who constructed the mighty temple of the universe ; call 


i8 


MIRRIKH. 


him Jehovah, call him Buddha, Brahma, or by whatev'A 
name you please.” 

Bravo ! ” I cried. Bravo ! Positively I never imagin- 
ed that I had in my friend so profound a thinker, an adept, 
a philosopher ! Then you don’t regard the Buddhists as 
idolaters, it seems ? ” 

‘‘No more than you are, no more than I am. I speak 
only of the educated. Long before I left America I enter- 
tained these views, and since my residence in the East I 
have seen much to confirm me in them ; but — ” 

“But not enough to make you willing to credit the 
mysterious disappearance of my friend with the parti-color- 
ed face?” I answered, somewhat sneeringly. “You made 
game of that, you know.” 

“ I own that I did, but it was because I did not care to 
enter into a discussion upon these matters at the time. 
Your state of mind was not such as to make it desirable that 
I should do so. It is hardly otherwise now, and I regret — 
George, there certainly is some one on the platform above 
us. Hark ! ” 

No need to call my attention. What Maurice heard I 
heard — could not help hearing. A deep voice had broken out 
above us, singing, or rather chanting the lines which follow. 

Coming suddenly as it did, close upon Maurice’s learned 
disquisition on Buddhism, every word is as firmly graven on 
my memory as though heard only yesterday, instead of many 
long years ago. Let me add that the words were English, 
as perfectly pronounced as if chanted by myself. 

‘‘ Lo ! in the East comes a glow as of rubies; 

Jewels magnificent flash in the sky, 

Heralding thee, O King of the morning, 

Golden hued sun to gladden the eye. 

Hail to thee. Sun God, ruler omnipotent ! 

Salute we thy coming in splendor and fire, 

Low bow we down as thy glory illumes us, 

Lord of the earth, our ruler and sire. 

Dark is the world when thou hast departed, 

Lonely and desolate lies the broad plain, 

Mountain and valley awaiting in sadness. 

Smile when thy face beams upon them again.” 

The song ceased. As the last echo died away, the 
shadowy mists which had hitherto hung over the horizon 


MIRRIKH. 


19 


were suddenly dispelled and the sun shown forth in all its 
glory. 

Turning my face upward, I, at the same instant, caught 
sight of a shadow upon the platform above. 

It was but a glimpse — then it was drawn back and had 
vanished. 

But that glimpse showed me a man bending over the 
balustrade. 

Instantly I knew him. 

It was my mysterious friend at Panompin^ the man with 
the parti-colored face ! 


CHAPTER III. 

MORE MYSTERY. 

‘‘ Maurice ! ” I cried, grasping my friend’s arm. Mau- 
rice, did you see?” 

See — what ? I saw a man leaning over the balustrade 
up there. Some visitor at the ruins like ourselves.” 

“ Maurice ! ” I exclaimed in a hurried whisper,^‘ it was 
that man.” 

What man ?” 

“My ^levitating* friend, as you call him.” 

“ No, George ! Never !” 

But it was though. Didn’t you see his face ? It was un- 
covered — half yellow, half black.” 

“ The sun must have been in my eyes or yours. I saw 
nothing of the sort; but to tell the truth I didn’t see his 
face plainly. Just as I caught a glimpse of it, presto, it was 
gone.” 

Strange sensations seized me. I trembled, though I knew 
not why. 

“ If it is actually your Panompin friend, George, by all 
means let us go up and interview him,” said Maurice 
lightly. “ His song, though a trifle high flown, was not so 
bad. Do you know I like that idea of sun worship. God 
is omnipotent, omnipresent, but invisible. He made the 
earth, but the sun was his master mechanic. By all means 
let us be sun worshipers, old fellow, but for heaven’s sake, 


20 


MIRRIKH. 


don’t drag me into any discussion with your friend upstairs. 
Such thoughts as I unfolded to you a few moments ago 
belong to certain frames of mind in which I seldom indulge. 
If you transgress, don’t be surprised to find me roughly repu- 
diating all I said. I’m in no mood to argue with a Budd- 
hist adept to-day.” 

“My lips are sealed,” I replied, “but first we have to 
‘ catch our hare,’ who knows that we may not find that my 
singular friend has levitated to parts unknown. Then the 
laugh will be on your side, and that’s a fact.” 

“We’ll see ! We’ll see !” exclaimed Maurice, pushing on 
ahead of me. “If he is still there I’m as eager to interview 
him as you can be, for — hark ! He is there ! ” 

It was true. 

We had reached the level of the next platform now, and 
there, leaning against a sculptured column with arms folded 
across his breast, stood the object of our thoughts. 

Involuntarily we paused and peered out through the door- 
way communicating with the platform. 

As he stood gazing in deep meditation off upon the dense 
forest there was something grand and majestic in his very 
attitude. 

To Maurice the sight of that face must have been a mar- 
vel; to me it now seemed so much a part of the man that I 
could no longer regard it as hideous, nor even strange. 

“What’s his name.^” breathed Maurice in my ear. “You 
want to introduce a fellow, you know.” 

I made no answer, for that same cold shudder had come 
over me again. What could it mean ? Could it be that I, the 
confirmed agnostic was wavering in my agnosticism ? For I 
found myself wondering if I was about to address a being 
from another and unseen world. 

Determined to divest myself of all such nonsense, I now 
strode forward with outstretched hand. 

“ Good morning! ” I said boldly. “ It strikes me we have 
had the pleasure of meeting before.” 

He did not at first change his position — simply turned 
and surveyed me calmly. Then unfolding his arms he 
extended his hand and grasped mine just as I was about to 
withdraw it, pressing it in that hearty fashion that I have 
always made a point to adopt myself. 

“Ah! my Panompin friend! ” he exclaimed. “ Positively 
this is a surprise and a pleasant one. How came you here?” 


MIRRIKH. 


21 


It Struck me very forcibly that mine was the right to ask 
that question, but I concealed my thoughts, and explained 
briefly the object of my visit to Angkor. 

‘‘ It is a wonderful place,” he replied. Few are aware 
of its existence and fewer still appreciate its beauties. But 
your friend here — introduce me please. By the way, our 
last interview was interrupted so abruptly that I had no 
opportunity to learn your name.” 

My eye was full upon him when he made that allusion to 
our adventure in the alley, but he showed by no outward 
sign that he did not consider his strange departure the most 
natural thing in the world. 

I am George Wylde,” I replied, ‘‘ and this is Mr. Maurice 
De Veber, American Consul at Panompin, to whose residence 
we were on our way when — when ” 

“ When I was forced to bid you farewell in a most sum- 
mary manner,” he interrupted with perfect coolness. “ Mr. 
Wylde, I am most happy to meet you again. Mr. De Veber, 
I trust that you are enjoying life in Cambodia. You are 
both Americans, I presume.” 

“We are — and New Yorkers.” 

“ A fine city. Greatly improved of late I am told. It is 
some years since my last visit there. You Americans are 
an enterprising, practical people, but ” 

“ But what? ” 

“ I was about to add that like all children you possess a 
somewhat exaggerated idea of your own intelligence,” he 
answered, smilingly, “but I had no intention of giving 
offense — let it pass.” 

“ You are quite right there, according to my friend’s 
views,” I laughed; “but pardon me, so far our introduction 
has been somewhat one-sided. May I ask your name?” 

“My name! Well, strictly speaking, I have four names. 
Two are unpronouncable for you Americans. In Cal- 
cutta I am known as Mr. Mirrikh, and that must answer 
here.” 

As he spoke he thrust his hand into one of the inner 
pockets of his coat, and producing a strip of black silk 
proceeded to adjust it about the lower part of his face. 

He made neither explanation nor the least allusion to this 
act, and when the silk wa^ in position, stood before us as 
calmly as ever, evidently waiting for me to speak. 

It was Maurice, however, who began. 


22 


MIRRIKH. 


You speak of Calcutta; are you a Hindoo, Mr. Mirrikh?” 

No, sir.” 

Pardon me. You can scarcely be a Cambodian or 
Siamese. Persian, perhaps?” 

‘‘ Neither one nor the other, sir. We will let that matter 
pass.” 

Maurice turned slightly red. The dear fellow never could 
endure rebuff. 

Do you smoke? ” he asked, producing his cigar case. 

“ Seldom, and I do not care to smoke now. Pardon me, Mr. 
De Veber, if I have given offense. I can assure you ” 

“In refusing my vile cheroots, sir? Indeed no.” 

“ No, no; not that. In declining to disclose my nationality. 
Believe me the best of reasons exist why I should keep my 
secret. To all intents and purposes I am a citizen of 
Benares. I have resided there ‘ off and on,’ as you Ameri- 
cans say, for some years.” 

“ No explanation is necessary, sir,” replied Maurice, 
lightly. “ My question was an impertinent one, but you 
know I must maintain my reputation for Yankee curiosity. 
But to change the subject; when did you arrive at Angkor? 
We have been here four days and, but for the priests, thought 
we had the ruins to ourselves.” 

“ I arrived this morning, Mr. De Veber,” he answered, 
the curious shadow which passed over his face telling me 
that Maurice was treading on dangerous ground again. 

“This morning! Why there was no party in this morning 
before we left. You could hardly have come up the lake, 
for I am expecting some one on the next boat due. Possibly 
you came over from Siamrap? ” 

“Mr. De Veber, I came from a different direction 
entirely.” 

“Indeed! May I ask from where?” 

“Yankee curiosity again?” he laughed. “Really it is too 
bad, but I am forced to disappoint you. My movements 
cannot possibly concern you. I prefer not to tell from 
which direction I came.” 

It was too much for Maurice. 

Biting his lip he moved toward the balustrade and re- 
mained looking down upon the temple roof below. 

Scarcely was his back turned when Mr. Mirrikh — I adopt 
the name he gave us—moved to my side and drew me back 
toward the door. 


MIRRIKH. 


23 


am sorry, very sorry,’* he said in a low voice, ‘‘to have 
offended your friend a second time, but I assure you it was 
out of my power to answer his question.” 

“ Which should not have been asked,” I replied. “ The 
fault is his. He is over sensitive. In a moment he will 
have forgotten — say no more.” 

“Not upon that subject since you wish it; but I must 
speak with you upon another while opportunity offers. 
That little hand bag of mine — you recollect. Have you it 
with you here at Angkor?” 

“Unfortunately no ; ” I took it in charge that night, but 
it was left behind us at Panompin. Of course I never 
dreamed — ? ” 

“Of meeting me — certainly not. Why should you? I 
was engaged in a peculiar mission at Panompin and was par- 
ticularly anxious not to — that is to say not to leave hurriedly. 
But tell me — and you must think me very rude for not in- 
quiring sooner — how did you manage to escape ? ” 

“ Now it is you who are asking questions. If I answer, I 
must take the liberty of asserting my Yankee prerogative of 
asking you the same question in return.” 

He smiled strangely — you can scarcely fancy what a sing- 
ular sensation it is to see a man smile only with his eyes. 

“I am dumb,” he said, “but one question I must ask — 
were you harmed ? ” 

“ Not in the least.” 

“ Good ! I am thankful for it. I have many times 
thought of you — but to return to the bag.” 

“ It’s at your disposal,” I interposed. “If you are going 
to Panompin — ” 

“ But I am not. It is doubtful if I ever visit the place 
again. When you return will you oblige me by addressing 
a label to Mr. Radma Gungeet, at Benares, and forwarding 
the bag by express ?” 

“ Certainly. It shall be done if you wish it.” 

“One question more. Do not be offended. Did you 
open the bag, thinking you would never see me again ? ” 

“ The bag has remained precisely as you left it, sir,” I re- 
plied with dignity. 

He gave a slight sigh of relief and turned away just in 
time to meet Maurice coming toward us from the balustrade. 

“Come, George, let’s go down,” he said abruptly. “ Mr. 
Mirrikh, I bid you good day.” 


24 


MIRRIKH. 


Stay — one moment. We part friends ? 

He extended his hand which Maurice took. 

“ Certainly. There is no reason why we should not. I 
can’t help being a Yankee anymore than you a — well, what- 
ever you are. Come and join us at dinner. We are in the 
last room of the north wing, and have as fine a Chinese 
cook as Cambodia can afford.” 

“ I should be most happy, but it will be quite impossible. 
Frankly, gentlemen, I am something of a Buddhist. My 
visit to the Nagkon Wat is for a religious purpose which 
renders it necessary for me to fast.” 

In which case we shall have to excuse you,” said Maurice 
lightly. At all events promise to see us before you leave.” 

“I promise that. You shall certainly see me.” 

‘‘ When?” 

“That is more than I can say. Hark ! Do I hear some- 
one singing? Gentlemen, I must leave you. As you may 
easily imagine, my peculiar deformity,” he pronounced the 
word with an emphasis almost sarcastic, “ makes me shy of 
strangers. Good day.” 

Yes, there was some one coming, we could hear the sound 
of footsteps ascending the stone stairs within the tower, and 
a rich baritone voice singing — not an ode to the sun god 
this time, though certainly something akin to it — the good 
old fisherman’s chorus from Auber’s pleasing, but well-nigh 
forgotten, opera, Masaniello. 

“ More visitors ! ” cried Mauii 

“ Evidently, and I am off. I cannot meet them,” said 
Mr. Mirrikh. 

Waving his hand politely, he drew back through the door- 
way, disappearing in the dark shadow beyond. 

“ Why, the man will run right into this newcomer, who- 
ever he is,” cried Maurice. He started to follow, but I 
caught his arm and drew him back. 

“ Don’t,” I whispered. “Whoever he is, or whatever he 
is, he is certainly a gentleman. Respect his wishes and let 
him go.” 

“ Bother ! ” said Maurice, pulling himself away. “ He 
called me a Yankee, let me show him I’ve got my share of 
Yankee curiosity. Come on George, I intend to find out 
wheie he goes.” 

And he stepped through the door, leaving me to follow or 
not, as I pleased. 


MIRRIKH. 25 

I chose to follow, for I confess that my curiosity had 
gained the better of my politeness. 

Was the strange episode at Panompin about to be repeat- 
ed, and in broad daylight ? Meanwhile, the singing con- 
tinued, though the sound of footsteps had ceased, and we 
knew that the new comer must have paused on the platform 
below. 

There were still two platforms above us. We listened, but 
could hear no footsteps on the stairs. 

“He must have gone up,” whispered Maurice; “Yes, 
by gracious! there he goes now.” 

Even as he spoke, we caught sight of Mr. Mirrikh’s back 
vanishing around a turn in the winding stairs. 

“ Stop ! ” I whispered. “Maurice, at least let us be 
decent.” 

“ I won’t ! If he don’t want to meet strangers, neither 
do we. Come on.” 

He crept up the stairs, and I followed him. When we 
turned the corner there was nothing to be. seen of Mirrikh ; 
nor was he on the first platform when we gained it, nor yet 
on the second and last. Now nothing but a huge cylindrical 
stone remained above us — nothing save that and the sky. 

“ Holy smoke 1 ” cried Maurice, dropping into American 
slang in his excitement. “ George, the fellow ain’t here ! ” 

“Evidently not. Now, my friend, perhaps you will be 
willing to believe me that I was neither drunk nor dreaming 
that night at Panompin. Too much samschow 1 Too many 
Manilla cheroots ! All a hallucination — I believe that was 
the way you talked.” 

“ Shut up 1 ” cried Maurice, half angrily. “ This is a 
mighty serious matter.” 

“ Awake ! Awake 1 the morn is freshly breaking ! ” roared 
the singer on the balcony below. 

“Perdition seize the fellow!” snapped Maurice. “George, 
where in the mischief do you suppose that man Mirrikh has 
taken himself to ? I will understand this business, I swear 
I will.” ^ 

“ Levitated, of course,” I replied ironically. “ These Bud- 
dhist adepts are wonderful fellows, you know. Why, they 
have the London Times at Benares every morning within 
ten seconds of the moment of issue. Railroads they never 
trouble. If they want to go to Calcutta, Paris or New 
York, they simply levitate — I’m growing fond of that word, 


26 


MIRRIKH. 


it rolls so easily off the tongue. Levitated — that’s it, you 
may depend.” 

‘‘George,” said Maurice solemnly, “you are making light 
of a serious matter. From my remarks made awhile ago, 
you have a perfect right to consider me not only a super-re- 
ligious sort of fellow, but a theosophist as well. Now, the fact 
is, I am neither one nor the other. I am simply a confirmed 
investigator. The truth is what I want, and what I am de- 
termined to have. Therefore I undertook to investigate 
Buddhism, and I was amazed at what I found in its much 
misrepresented doctrines. Nevertheless, I believe only 
what appeals to my reason and to my senses. Levitation 
does neither, and yet — well, to cut it short, where the deuce 
has that fellow gone to? That’s what I want to know.” 

“ Where did he go the night he left me at the end of the 
alley?” I demanded triumphantly. 

“ Through some secret door, I presume. There was 
chance enough.” 

“Was there? You yourself searched and could find no 
such outlet, but it would not be at all out of the way to 
imagine both a secret door and a hidden staircase in this 
ruined pile.” 

“That’s it! That’s it !” cried Maurice; “unless he is a 
second Elijah he can have left this tower in no other 
way.” 

I was looking down as Maurice made this remark ; 
gazing into the interior court yard behind the Nagkon Wat, 
a space surrounded by low, crumbling stone structures, any 
one of which, even if we had run down stairs at the top of 
our speed, it would have taken us a good ten minutes to 
reach. 

Five had not elapsed since the disappearance of Mr. 
Mirrikh — I doubt greatly if it was more than three. 

“Look! Look!” I cried, suddenly seizing Maurice by 
the arm. “ Look! Now will you believe?” 

“ Great God! It is the man himself! ” 

He was as pale as death as these words burst from his 
lips, and even I felt that strange cold thrill pass through my 
frame again. 

I remember hearing the voice of the singer drawing 
nearer — of being conscious that he was coming up the last 
of the stairs and we must encounter him in a moment more. 
Yet I thought nothing of this now. How could it be 


MIRRIKH. 


27 


expected, when looking down into the courtyard of the 
Nagkon Wat I saw the mysterious Mr. Mirrikh standing at 
the head of a short flight of steps between the columns of a 
massive portico. 

As we gazed, he lifted his eyes toward the tower and saw 
us. 

Raising his hand he waved it lightly in our direction, 
bowed, and passing into the shadows of the door-way dis- 
appeared. 


CHAPTER IV. 

OUR REVEREND GUEST. 

I WISH I possessed that great gift, a facile pen.” 

How 1 would like to describe that glorious sunrise in the 
elegant and finely rounded periods of aBulwer; to discourse 
upon the antiquity of that mighty and mysterious temple 
with the confident assurance of a Lenormant or a Lyell. 

Or even were I gifted with the power of stringing flowery 
phrases, how poetic could I grow about the balmy air, the 
thrilling songsters whose notes now began to fill the forest, 
the nodding palms and delicious odors wafted past us on our 
lofty perch with each breeze that blew. 

But pshaw! I am neither poet nor novelist; history I 
hate, and science I abhor. I am only a plain, every day 
American; a little brushed up by foreign travel, perhaps; 
but neither brighter nor better read than the average of my 
race. 

Thus, as Maurice De Veber truly remarked, I am incap- 
able of comprehending the mystical; my mind and thought 
methods are unadapted to the tenets of Buddhist theology. 

Even now that my knowledge has advanced in this direc- 
tion; even now that I know of that knowledge and must 
believe because I know, because I have seen and heard, I 
find myself still incapable of so expressing my thoughts to 
others as to carry conviction with my statements. But after 
all, that is a gift, and one which few men possess. 

Here was I brought face to face with a man and a mystery. 
A man more mysterious even than the temple in which we 


28 


MIRRIKH. 


had met. A man whose facial appearance violated all the 
laws of ethnology; a man seemingly possessed of powers 
which opposed physical law. Yet now that my friend had 
seen what I had seen, I found myself forced to admit the 
truth of that which for weeks past I had been trying to per- 
suade myself was but the outgrowth of an over morbid mind. 

‘‘George! George! You saw him?” cried Maurice, star- 
ing down at the portico through y/hich Mr, Mirrikh had 
disappeared. 

“ Decidedly I saw him. And you — now you are forced 
to admit that my experience at Panompin was no dream?” 

“ I admit nothing. All my life — that is ever since I was 
old enough to read and think — I have longed to be a witness 
to something of this sort. But, George, once seeing is not 
enough to convince me that the man exists who can set at 
naught the laws of nature. I must see and see, test and 
re-test again and again. I admit the possibility — no more.” 

“ But,” I began, “ such business is done by others than 
Buddhists. Our modern Spiritualists for instance ” 

“Oh bother the modern Spiritualists! ” he exclaimed im- 
patiently. “ There is something different here from your 
vulgar table tipping, spirit rappings and banjo playings. 
How did that man get down from this tower? George, I 
tell you my dear fellow — pshaw! we can talk no longer 
now! ” 

He was right. The moment had come when our atten- 
tion was to be distracted. 

Quick footsteps were heard upon the topmost stairs and 
the full, rich voice of the singer drew nearer. An instant 
later and we were no longer alone. The singing ceased, a 
man stepped out upon the platform and advanced to where 
we stood. 

“ Ah ! So I am not the only one who has had the courage 
to brave these infernal stairs ! ” he exclaimed. “ Good 
morning, gentlemen. English I perceive, or American. 
My name is Philpot — Miles Philpot. I am glad to meet 
you — glad to meet any one capable of speaking the only 
respectable language on God’s footstool — I am indeed.” 

Let me describe him. It must be done, and the sooner 
we are through with introductions the sooner my strange 
story may be told. 

A man of forty years, perhaps, of medium height, slightly 
inclined to corpulency, with brown hair, big, bulging blue 


MIRRIKH. 


29 


eyes and smooth shaven, florid cheeks, stood before us with 
outstretched hand. 

The face was an intelligent one, and yet there was about 
the mouth a certain sneering expresssion which repelled me. 
I thought then — and afterward I knew it to be true — that 
here was a man who had drunk of life’s pleasures to the 
dregs ; a man who had seen everything and forgotten noth- 
ing ; whose life had been a moral failure ; one who had 
lacked sufficient tenacity of purpose to make life a pecuniary 
success. 

And yet why I should thus have estimated him, I scarcely 
know. 

Certainly his dress did not warrant the drawing of any 
such conclusion. 

A suit of rusty black ; a waistcoat with innumerable little 
buttons extending from a dirty collar turned hindside 
foremost,’* as Maurice put it, and a broad brimmed straw 
hat all went to indicate a Church of England clergyman. 
No ; it was the face. That spoke louder than broadcloth 
and buttons. There was no spirituality there. 

Maurice was the first to recover himself from the some- 
what confused condition of mind into which this abrupt, 
though not unexpected interruption had thrown us, and 
taking the proffered hand, he returned the greeting with 
more warmth than I, under the circumstances, could have 
displayed. 

“ Glad to meet you, sir !” he said heartily. I am 
Maurice De Veber ; this is Mr. George Wylde, my friend. 
It is unnecessary to ask if you are our countryman, Mr. 
Philpot. Your manner speaks too plainly. You are an 
American, of course.” 

The new comer laughed lightly. 

Ah, how many times >vas I destined to hear that light, 
sneering laugh in the weeks to come. 

“ On the contrary,” he replied, I am an Englishman. 
There, don’t stare! Don’t expect me to be a boor in conse- 
quence. Don’t look round for my bath-tub, my valet, hat 
box and travelling rug. I said I was an Englishman — so I 
am by birth, and I am proud of it; but I am prouder still of 
being a citizen of the world, and of having spent the best 
part of my life in the United States. Gentlemen, to all 
intents and purposes I am an American. You have hit the 
nail squarely on the head.” 


30 


MIRRIKH. 


Singular words for one of your cloth, sir,*' I replied with 
a slight tinge of sarcasm. 

“ Cloth ! Well you are right. I am a Reverend, boys, 
but the title is about all there is left of it. I have enjoyed 
many charges and lost them all, and that which I have now 
is not a charge ! Ha ! ha ! It is only an existence. Being 
deprived of a charge does not deprive me of the right to 
live. Briefly, I am a reformed parson. I am sponging on 
the world.’* 

He removed his hat and wiped his perspiring brow, gaz- 
ing off upon the vast sea of green below us with an expres- 
sion of admiration which told me that his thoughts were not 
all as trivial as he seemed to wish us to believe. 

“ Glorious — ain’t it? ” he exclaimed. I had often read 
of it and I was bound to see it. Well, here I am at Angkor 
at last, and now the Lord knows where I shall drift to 
next.” 

‘‘ What part of the States are you from? ” I ventured. 

“New York, last; lived ten years in Chicago; besides 
that have trotted about from Maine to Texas. As you 
Yankees say, I kinder guess I’ve seen about all your country 
has to show.” 

“ When did you reach Angkor? ” 

“ Half an hour ago.” 

“ Surely you did not come up the river? ” 

“ No, I came through from Siamrap with a little party of 
natives. Came to Siamrap from Bangkok, to Bangkok from 
Calcutta. I am travelling because I like to travel. If I see 
anything odd I jot it down. I’ve written one book and may 
write another. Can’t promise though, for I’m too lazy, and 
that’s the truth. Gentlemen, have either of you got any^ 
thing to smoke? Unfortunately, I left my pipe with my 
traps below.” % 

I passed him my cheroot case and Maurice supplied the 
match. As soon as the light was taken he began rattling on 
in the same strain. 

“ Let me see, haven’t I heard of you before, Mr. De 
Veber? Strikes me I have. You are consul somewhere — • 
let me see, Macao, ain’t it? No, Panompin?” 

“ Panompin is the spot,” said Maurice, quietly. 

“ Ah, yes! Knew I’d seen your name mentioned in some 
register or another. Dull hole that. I was there last year. 
Was introduced to that royal beggar, King Norodom. Spent 


MIRRIKH. 


31 


a whole evening trying to drink him under the table. No 
go, though. I was only too glad to get out at last.” 

You have been in the East some time then? ” I remarked 

^‘Oh yes; a matter of a few years. They sent me out 
as a missionary, but bless you, I couldn’t stand it. I had a 
charge near Rangoon — bored the very life out of me. 
Luckily I fell heir to a few pounds just about that time, so I 
took to knocking round again. The fact is, gentlemen. I’ve 
knocked round so much in my time that I’m fit for nothing 
else.” 

“ Did you happen to knock against a man — a Hindoo — 
wearing a black cloth over the lower part of his face, on 
your way over from Siamrap? ” demanded Maurice, turning 
suddenly upon him. 

‘‘No; I saw no such person. I was the only man in the 
party outside of the bearers and the guide.” 

“ And you arrived?” 

“Half an hour ago, as I just told you.” 

“ How long were you at Siamrap? ” 

“.Two days. But pardon me — what are you driving at ? ” 

“ One moment. Coming up here did you meet any one 
on the stairs going down?” 

“ No; the priests told me there were two English gentlemen 
at the ruins and your man informed me that you had gone 
up into the tower so I expected to meet you, but I met no 
one on the way up.” 

“ Might not some one have passed you while you stopped 
on the platform where we heard you singing? ” 

“ Scarcely. I was there only a moment. I should have 
heard him, and my very highly developed bump of curiosity 
would most certainly have prompted me to look round.” 

Then, to my surprise, Maurice just blurted out the whole 
affair. 

I was disgusted — half angry. I tried to stop him, but in 
vain. 

“ It’s no use, George,” he said. “ I am determined to 
fathom this mystery. If your friend Mirrikh did not come 
to Angkor up the river then he must have come from Siam- 
rap, for there is no other way of getting here unless through 
the forest. I want to know where he came from and by 
what means he left this tower. It is not fair to question 
Mr. Philpot so closely without letting him understand the 
whole matter.” 


32 


MIRRIKH. 


During Maurice’s animated and somewhat highly colored 
description of the scene in the alley and that upon the 
tower, the reverend gentleman maintained perfect silence. 

He seemed impressed with my friend’s manner, half 
amused at his earnestness, but at each allusion to the remark- 
able disappearances of Mr. Mirrikh, that same sneering smile 
crept over his face. His glances at Maurice were half in pity 
it seemed to me. 

‘‘You may question me as much as you please, Mr. De 
Veber,” he said, after Maurice had at length ceased speak- 
ing. ‘^You perceive that I am above the prejudices of my 
race, and am not afraid of the interrogation point. But, my 
dear fellow, I can't help you. I can throw no light what- 
ever upon this mystery, unless too great an indulgence 
in " 

“Stop, sir!” I exclaimed. “I protest. I never indulge 
too deeply, nor does my friend, De Veber. Look at us 
both. Not ten minutes have elapsed since that man stood 
beside us on this tower. Do we show any signs of over 
indulgence now?” 

“No, no; certainly not,” he replied hastily. “But tales 
of mysterious levitations — I think that was the word you 
used, Mr. De Veber — remind one of sea-serpent stories and 
naturally suggest — but enough of this! Seriously, gentle- 
men, I can assure you that such a person as you describe 
could scarcely have passed me unnoticed. I saw nothing 
of him and am glad I did not Hope I never may.” 

“ Why so? ” asked Maurice. 

“ Because I am wholly skeptical on these points and have 
seen enough to make me so.” 

“ For instance? ” 

Oh come, I don’t care to enter into a discussion on 
Spiritualism — that’s what you are driving at. Give me a 
light.” 

“ He has seen nothing,” I thought, as I passed him the 
match safe, “but he has read much and is afraid to expose 
his hand until he knows the cards against which he has to 
play.” 

“And I,” said Maurice slowly, “am willing to enter 
.into any investigation which will shed light upon the 
mighty problem of the hereafter. We are here in this world 
to-day, we are gone to-morrow. Where ? That’s what I 
want to know.” 


MTRRTKH. 


33 


“And are you likely to find out?” demanded Mr. Philpot, 
turning upon Maurice with more earnestness than he had 
yet displayed. “For centuries the world has been com- 
bating with that problem, and how far have they advanced? 
Not one inch. Thousands of years ago, sorcerers and ma- 
gicians gave us the same mysterious manifestations that your 
modern mediums do to-day. Anciently men respected 
these persons ; later on they burned them ; now they laugh 
at their often exposed humbugs. Bah ! I have preached 
heaven and held up hell as a bugaboo, for money, and 
priests, by the hundreds of thousands, have done and ever 
will do the same; but what proof is there? Frankly, 
gentlemen, I, who have the right to know, say to you there 
is none. We know that we die, and that is all we do know, 
and a hundred centuries of preaching to the contrary has 
been unable to show us any more.” 

“I cannot agree with you,” replied Maurice, coldly. 
“ Thousands of witnesses have testified to the truth of 
spiritual manifestations, and yet you throw their testimony 
aside with one wave of the hand.” 

“ And you are a Spiritualist then ? ” 

“ On the contrary, I am nothing of the sort. I defined 
my position just now. I am an investigator — nothing more. 
I do not claim that the testimony of these witnesses is 
true.” 

“ And you, to talk as you do, must be a pretty thorough 
skeptic,” I interposed. “ Until now, I could have freely 
endorsed every word you say.” 

“You’ve hit it,” answered Mr. Philpot lightly. “ To one 
likely to betray me I would never admit it, for I may find 
it convenient to assume a charge again at any time ; but, to 
you, I say freely, I believe nothing, and investigation only 
goes to strengthen my unbelief. What is religion but a 
tissue of falsities, a hollow sham, a cloak for a selfish priest- 
hood to aggrandize themselves at the expense of the multit- 
ude — it is nothing less, nothing more. Pope, cardinal, 
bishop and priest, it is all one in my experience. Bah ! I 
was ‘Low-Church,’ and was kicked out, because I wouldn’t 
burn candles on my altar, swing censers and listen to the 
confessions of morbid women. Then I tried ‘ High-Church,’ 
burned candles by the box and incense by the pound. But 
no ! ’Twould’nt suit. They kicked because I wasn’t ‘ Low- 
Church,’ growled because I smoked, accused me of being a 


34 


MIRRIKH. 


drunkard because I liked my glass of wine as well as the 
best of them — but pardon me, gentlemen, I find I am drift- 
ing toward the autobiographical. The sun is growing hot 
here. Let us go down.” 

One moment,” interposed Maurice, and I am not only 
ready to join you, Mr. Philpot, but extend a cordial invit- 
ation for you to join us at breakfast. This man — this 
Mirrikh — you have heard our story — tell me what you 
think?” 

‘‘That he is an unmitigated fraud,” replied Philpot 
promptly. “ A Hindoo adept, doubtless, full of mysticism 
and bosh, but still possessed of the knowledge of certain 
perfectly natural laws which, to us, are mysteries, enabling 
him to perform certain tricks and produce certain appear- 
ances which, in our eyes, seem supernatural — that is all.” 

“And his face ? ” 

“Either painted or marked by disease.” 

“ And you account for his disappearance — how ? ” 

“ Of course,” he replied, “ any theory which I may ad- 
vance in that regard can be only a theory. I am no Bud- 
dhist, thank God, but during my residence in India I have 
seen many strange things for which I was wholly unable to 
account. Let us suppose, for instance, the existence of 
some subtile and hitherto unknown gas — unknown, at least, 
so far as our western scientists are concerned. Might it not 
be possible to project that toward the nostrils secretly, and 
so deaden the senses that the operator who desires to levit- 
ate himself — I have adoptee your word, you see, Mr. De 
Veber — will have time to pass out of sight ? ” 

“ Scarcely satisfactory,” I answered promptly. “I’ll swear 
that nothing of the kind was tried in this case.” 

“ Don’t be too sure,” 

“ Have you ever witnessed anything of the sort in 
India ? ” 

“ The transportation of inanimate matter without visible 
aid — no.” 

“ Then it is usless for you to theorize.” 

“ Perhaps so. Still, I repeat, such things have unquest- 
ionably been done.” 

“ Then why not in this case ? ” 

“ It is possible, but I must doubt it.” 

“No more than I do,” I answered, “ and yet what I saw, 
I saw.” 


MIRRIKH. 


35 


“ It is useless to continue this discussion, interposed 
Maurice. Not only in India, but in every country on the 
face of the globe have such apparent impossibilities occur- 
ed. And yet, I repeat, even I do not believe.” 

“ Then this man whom we both saw go up the stairs must 
actually have gone down ? ” I demanded testily. ‘‘ I am no 
more a religionist than yourselves, gentlemen. Of modern 
Spiritulism I know next to nothing, of the claims of Bud- 
dhist adepts still less ; and yet — Great God ! Maurice, 
there he is again ! ” 

In the middle of my protest I broke off suddenly. I re- 
call perfectly the very words I used. 

For my eyes finding no pleasant resting place on the face of 
our ‘‘reformed parson,” had wandered to the courtyard 
below, and there I saw Mr. Mirrikh walking along the grass- 
grown pavement with bowed head and arms folded across 
his breast. 

“ Certainly he is a most singular looking person,” said 
Philpot. “ So that is the man ? ” 

“ That is the man,” I replied. 

“ I wish I might look beneath that covering,” he mused. 
“ Surely the upper part of the face and the hands are 
white.” 

“ Rather yellow,” said I. “If you could see him closely, 
you — protecting powers ! Where is he now ? ” 

We stood there gazing at each other in breathless amaze- 
ment. 

But one second before, and the man had been slowly 
walking across the interior court of the Nagkon Wat. 

Speaking for myself — and my companions testified to the 
same — not for one instant had my eyes been removed from 
him, and yet now he was no longer there. 

“ You see,” said Maurice, cooly lighting a fresh cheroot. 

There was not the slightest projection of any sort above 
the pavement of the court. For the man to have hidden 
himself from our view was quite impossible. Even Philpot 
was obliged to admit that. 

“ Come, let us go down at once and investigate this bus- 
iness,” he exclaimed. “ I have seen strange things in my 
time, but this — ” 

“ Stop ! ” I said. “ Going down will not bring us to that 
man. Gentlemen, look there ! ” 

There are three towers rising above the roof of tlie 


3 ^ 


MIRRIKH. 


Nagkon Wat. I reiterate this in order that the situation 
may be more fully understood. We, let it be remembered, 
were standing on the middle one, and I now raised my 
hand and pointed in triumph toward the summit of the 
lower tower, on our right. 

He was there ! 

Standing upon the topmost platform, leaning against the 
balustrade we all saw him. His eyes were directed toward 
the rising sun. 

Amazing ! ” cried Philpot. 

But Maurice Was to be satisfied by no simple expression 
of astonishment. 

Hello ! Hello, there ! ” he shouted. 

Then I saw him look toward us, but at so great a dist- 
ance the expression of the visible portion of his face could 
not be discerned. 

As if in answer to Maurice’s shout he waved his hand, 
turned, entered the low doorway behind him and dis- 
appeared. 


CHAPTER V. 

JUNGLE ADVENTURES. 

It seems to me that I have now rendered tolerably clear 
the perplexed frame of mind in which Maurice De Veber 
and I found ourselves at the beginning of our fourth day at 
Angkor. 

Day succeeded day and our perplexity was in no way 
diminished — rather increased. 

Not that the mysterious Mr. Mirrikh manifested himself 
again. 

Quite the contrary. We saw nothing of him, and just 
there the mystery lay. 

Immediately upon our descent from the central tower of 
the ruined temple, the Reverend Miles Philpot set himself 
the task of finding ‘‘that man.” 

Briefly, he did not succeed; and that with every opportu- 
nity for success; for Philpot among his other accomplish- 
ments — and they were certainly many — numbered a very 


MIRRIKH. 


37 


tolerable acquaintance with the Siamese language, and he at 
once proceeded to question the old priests who guard the 
Nagkon Wat. 

It was a useless effort. From the priests — intelligent 
men of their class — we received the most positive assurances 
that no stranger was present at the ruins but ourselves, nor 
had been for months past. Of a man with a partially con- 
cealed face they had never heard. 

But had no one seen Mr. Mirrikh but ourselves? 

Yes; Maurice's Chinese cook. Ah Schow, had seen him 
crossing the courtyard while on the way to fetch water for 
our breakfast from a spring behind the temple. Seen him 
for a moment only, for then his attention was attracted by 
something else. When Ah Schow looked back, wondering 
at the concealed face, the man was gone. 

And this was all. 

Be very certain that we all three made haste to ascend the 
winding staircase of the right hand tower, having our labor 
for our pains. 

As the days glided by, the Rev. Miles Philpot remained 
our guest, and it struck me that it was a very fortunate thing 
for His Reverence that he had fallen in with us as he did. 

So far as I could learn he was almost without money, and 
he certainly had come into the depths of this Siamese forest 
wholly unprovided with such creature comforts as were 
absolutely necessary for existence, and unattended as well. 

He made no concealment of this. On the contrary, he 
boasted of his luck. 

If I hadn’t met you boys," he said, “ likely as not I 
would have starved. It was a crazy undertaking, but I had 
grown tired of Bangkok and was determined to see these 
ruins. I shall go back with you to Panompin, and if noth- 
ing turns up there I'll jog on to Singapore, where I have 
been promised a charge at a mission station. If I fail there 
I think I shall go home to England." 

Never have I been thrown in with a man so well informed 
and yet so light and trivial in all his methods of thought. 

Maurice seemed to like him; I endured him — he amused 
me with his sarcasm and his dry sayings. So long as he 
kept me from thinking it was enough. 

One of the few things of which his luggage boasted be- 
yond a change of clothing was a small camera, and with 
this he entertained himself and us by taking negatives. 


MIRRIKH. 


38 

which he had no means of developing, of those beautiful 
bas-reliefs which adorn the walls of the Nagkon Wat. 

One morning — I believe it was the tenth, for I remember 
we had about exhausted the subject of Mr. Mirrikh and his 
mysterious disappearances — just as I was emerging from 
the chamber opening off the broad veranda which extends 
the full length of the old temple in front, I encountered 
Philpot and Maurice hurrying up the steps. 

“ Glorious news, old fellow! ” exclaimed my friend. ‘‘The 
boat is up from the lake at last and with it all our traps. 
Now we can pay our long projected visit to Ballambong. 
Wong is following with the things he brought up; and see, 
the fellow, bound to make a clean sweep, brought this along 
with the rest.*' 

It was Mr. Mirrikh’s little hand bag which Maurice ex- 
tended toward me, with an odd twinkle in his eye. 

“Heavens! That bag!'* I exclaimed. “What a pity 
we did not have it, when — “ 

“ When he last materialized,” broke in Philpot. “ I say 
no. Spirits have no use for hand bags. I believe you are 
still an advocate for the ghostly theory, Mr. Wylde?” 

It Was one of his jokes, for it was Maurice, not I, who in 
our repeated discussions had shown an inclination to connect 
those strange appearances and vanishings with the materiali- 
zation phenomena of modern Spiritualism; while I, on the 
contrary, had stoutly maintained that I never could by any 
possibility be brought to admit that my Panompin acquain- 
tance was other than a creature of flesh and blood like our- 
selves. 

“ Hold on there, Doctor! ” I cried — it was Maurice who 
had given him the title — “ remember there is a fine for the 
first person mentioning the name of that individual argu- 
mentatively. I believe we shall see him again, and I am 
glad Wong made the blunder and brought the bag.” 

I extended my hand to take it from Maurice, but Philpot 
with that impetuosity which characterized all his move- 
ments, snatched it away. 

“ Look out! ” he exclaimed. “ Dynamite! Infernal ma- 
chine! Hold on, boys ! It don’t matter about me. The 
world will never miss Miles Philpot. I’m going to open 
this bag.” 

“ No, no! Don’t do it!” I said. “Suppose he returns 
and claims it? ” 


MIRRIKH. 39 

Let him! What do I care? Throw all the blame on 
me — here goes.” 

Before I could prevent, he thrust the big knife he always 
carried, between the metal edges of the bag, and pried the 
two halves apart. 

Confound you ! What did you do that for? ” I ex- 
claimed, now seriously vexed at the persistency he displayed. 

But Maurice sided against me. 

“ Bother, George! Why do you make so much fuss about 
nothing? ” he said. The Doctor is right. By all means 
let us see what is inside the bag.” 

I maintained a sulky silence. It was quite impossible for 
me to quarrel with Maurice. I loved him too well for that. 

“ Thunder! ” remarked the Doctor, tumbling over the 
contents of the bag, ‘‘ nothing very theosophic here. On 
the contrary, everything seems quite material. Two shirts, 
a pair of muslin drawers, six collars, four pair of cuffs, a 
tooth brush, comb, hair brush arid a bottle of Brigg’s patent 
liver pills.” 

Try the other side,” suggested Maurice. 

Well, here we have one or two Calcutta papers, not 
more than six months old,” continued the Doctor, a packet 
of court plaster, a pair of shoes, six pair stockings, pocket 
ink stand and this book — perhaps that will throw some ray 
of light upon the dark mystery surrounding our levitating 
friend.” 

“Stop!” I exclaimed. “Stop! I won’t have it. Let 
Mr. Mirrikh be what he may, I gave him my word that this 
bag should be forwarded to Radma Gungeet, of Benares. 
Doctor, I appeal to you as a gentleman ” 

“ What! Radma Gungeet — did you say, Radma Gun- 
geet?” cried the Doctor. He paused with the book un- 
opened in his hand. 

“ Certainly. That was the address he gave me.” 

“ That fixes Mirrikh as a Hindoo, at all events. Do you 
happen to know who and what this Radma Gungeet is? ” 

“I neither know nor care. He shall have that bag unless 
Mirrikh comes after it, and I feel thoroughly ashamed of 
myself to think that it is now impossible for him to receive 
it with its contents undisturbed.” 

“ Radma Gungeet is one of the most noted adepts in 
India,” said the Doctor, slowly. “ Wylde, this goes far to 
show that Mirrikh is one of those singular beings himself.” 


40 


MIRRIKH. 


“No matter. I want that bag, Doctor, and I insist upon 
that book remaining unopened.” 

“ Too late! ” replied Philpot, and before I could interfere 
he had opened the volume and was running over its pages. 

I sprang forward and would have snatched it from him, 
but Maurice caught my arm and restrained me. 

“ Come, come, George! No quarrelling! ” he said., 
“ What’s done can’t be undone. Everything shall be care- 
fully returned to the bag. Doctor, what do you make of 
the book? ” 

For the Doctor had stopped turning over the leaves and 
was staring at a page with a deeply puzzled expression. 

“ Upon my word I can’t make anything of it,” he replied, 
slowly. “ It is a mystery, a veritable mystery. Look here.” 

He held up the book, open as it was, looking more serious 
than I had ever seen him look before. 

Now there was nothing peculiar about the book so far as 
outward appearance was * concerned. It was simply an 
ordinary blank book, leather bound, with limp covers, 
closely written perhaps half through. It was the peculiarity 
of the writing which had puzzled the Doctor, and possibly 
had I been better informed on such matters it might have 
puzzled me. 

“Well, what is odd about it? ” I demanded, sulkily. 

“ Look and see,” repeated Philpot. “ De Veber, you 
surely are able to comprehend.” 

“ I confess I don’t see what you are driving at ! ” 
answered Maurice. “ Of course the language is as in- 
comprehensible to me as it is to Wylde. Hindoo, I take it, 
Sanscrit or possibly Bengalee.” 

“ Neither one nor the other,” replied the Doctor. “ No 
such characters as those were ever used in India.” 

“ What then ? ” I asked. 

“ There lies the mystery,” he answered slowly. “ Those 
characters belong to no nation on earth.” 

“Bosh 1 As though you were competent to decide that.” 

I saw his eyes flash, and I knew that I had come near to 
rousing a temper which I fancy seldom showed itself. 

“ You are angry Wylde,” he said cooly. “ It happens 
that I am competent to decide in this matter. I can read 
Sanscrit, Hindoostanee, Bengalee, Talenga, Siamese and 
Persian. Beside that I was for ten years linguist of the 
British Bible Society and have assisted in the transla- 


MIRRIKH. 


41 


tion of the Bible into nearly every language of the East.” 

I was amazed. Were the claims of this man true ? In 
the days which followed I came to know that they were. 

And do you mean to say that this book is written in an 
unknown language ? ” demanded Maurice, incredulously. 

By no means,” replied the Doctor. All I assert is 
that the characters are unknown — the language may be 
English, for all I can tell.” 

“ May it not be written in cipher ? ” 

‘^Certainly; and such I am inclined to think is actually the 
case. But there, examine it for yourselves, gentlemen. Wylde, 
I owe you an apology. I am sorry I opened the bag against 
your wishes, but having opened it, I was determined to see 
what it contained.” 

I made no reply, for I was still angry. Taking the book 
from his hand almost rudely, I proceeded to make a more 
critical examination, half expecting, I am free to confess, to 
see Mr. Mirrikh suddenly appear among us and reproach me 
for what had been done. 




• 

But I could make nothing of it, nor could Maurice. The 
characters were most peculiar and seemed to be made up of 
simple strokes, dots and curves, arranged at different angles. 
They neither extended across the page, nor yet up and down 
in columns, as the Chinese write, but were arranged in little 
squares, or tablets, after the manner of those mysterious 
hieroglyphics found sculptured on the monuments of Palen- 
que. Copan, Uxmal, and other ruined cities of Mexico and 
Central America, which, as is well known, have thus far 
defied the skill of the most noted antiquarians of the world. 

But in a matter of this kind, description goes for nothing. 
I reproduce, above, three sample squares for the inspection 
of the reader. Let him judge of their peculiarity for himself. 


42 


MIRRIKH. 


Now this happened at the beginning of a day destined to 
become most notable among those spent at Angkor. 

By noon we were at Ballambong, where lies concealed in 
the very heart of the forest a minature Nagkon Wat, not 
lacking interest to the professed antiquarian, but to us it 
seemed decidedly tame. 

We had gone into the jungle accompanied only by one 
old priest whom we had taken pains to propitiate by fre- 
quent gifts of brandy and tobacco. Although only three 
miles distant from Angkor, the journey had been a hard 
one, since every step of the way took us through a dense 
tropical tangle, keeping me in momentary dread of dangling 
pythons, prowling tigers and other pleasing diversions. 

Nevertheless the trip was not without enjoyment. The 
day was perfect, and as the rainy season was now close 
upon us, such days were not to be despised. Maurice was 
full of life and spirits, and Philpot certainly at his best. 
Jovial always, he seemed to surpass himself in joviality on 
that particular morning. Witty upon all occasions, he kept 
us in a constant roar of laughter by his quaint remarks and 
comical sayings. More than all this, it was a pleasure to 
listen as he unfolded his vast stores of knowledge. Not a 
plant, not a tree nor shrub, but he had the name, botanical 
and vulgar, at his tongue’s end, and as he rattled on, 
discoursing learnedly at one moment, telling a witty and 
often broad anecdote the next, I could not but wonder 
where and when the man had found time to learn all these 
things, and how it happened that one whose manners and 
acquirements certainly seemed to fit him for many elevated 
positions, had become so complete a nomad — a wanderer 
on the face of the earth. 

We remained at the ruins three hours, during which 
time Philpot took a series of views of the temple and the 
most notable of the bas-reliefs. 

I remember how he sang over his work, stopping only to 
light his pipe — the tobacco had been begged from Maurice 
— and to quiz the old priest, who followed us about like a 
dog, watching our operations with awe. 

Meanwhile I kept myself busy studying inscriptions and 
dreaming over the lost glories of this wonderful land. I 
pondered upon the problems which Angkor and its environs 
offer to the antiquarian. I fancied these old temples in 
their glory, with a mighty city surrounding them. 


MIRRIKH. 


43 


This very building may have been included within the 
limits,” I was reflecting, when all at once Philpot came 
bursting into the apartment where I stood before an in- 
scribed tablet bearing a long history of the doings of some 
forgotten dignitary of the ancient Cambodian race. 

“ Look here, Wylde, we are in a precious pickle now I ” 
he broke out. 

What is the trouble ? ” I inquired, turning with a start, 
for I had not been conscious of his approach. 

“ Why that wretched fraud of a priest refuses to go back 
with us. Says he is obliged to stay here to perform some 
heathen ceremony or another, and has just informed me 
that we can stay until morning or return to the Nagkon 
Wat as best we can.” 

“ Well, I don’t see anything so very terrible about that,” 
I answered. “ It is scarcely past four o’clock, and the dis- 
tance is only three miles. For my part I’d as soon be rid of 
the fellow — he’s only in the way.” 

“ Precisely, but suppose we miss the path ?” 

No danger. It is a straight trail through the forest. 
We couldn’t miss it if we were to try.” 

Which only goes to show how little you comprehend 
the dangers of a Siamese forest,” he replied. ‘T tell you, my 
dear fellow, we are very likely to miss our way, and that 
means wandering in the jungle indefinitely, living on all 
sorts of unpleasant things, with the beautiful prospect of 
starving to death in the end.” 

“ Pshaw ! You exaggerate. Have you tried all your 
powers of persuasion ? ” 

“ Aye, and of Maurice’s brandy flask and tobacco bag 
into the bargain. It’s no go. The old fanatic has got 
some crotchet into his head, and the devil himself couldn’t 
knock it out.” 

I found Maurice less excited than the Doctor, but still anx- 
ious, and of the opinion that we ought to start back at once. 

Mr. Philpot is right, George, he said. There is danger. 
We are without a compass and the jungle is full of wild 
beasts. It would be no joke to get lost in these woods.” 

Meanwhile the priest had taken himself off and could 
not be found. Probably he was concealed somewhere 
among the ruins, but we made no attempt to look for him, 
simply bundling our traps together and starting off along 
the narrow trail in single file. 


44 


MIRRIKH. 


Upon my word I^m sorry we ever ventured into this 
beastly hole,” grumbled Philpot, after we had advanced 
about a mile or so. A night spent here would bring us 
all down with jungle fever — heavens! look there! ” 

He pointed toward a huge atap palm just in advance of 
us, fr«m which a thick, brown tendril, as I supposed it to be, 
for I had seen it before, hung dangling. But, now, as I 
looked again, I saw the supposed tendril suddenly elevate 
itself ; saw a well defined head, a pair of wicked beady 
eyes flash fire, and a forked tongue shoot out like lightning. 
It was a huge serpent, which in a moment more might have 
been twining its folds about the Doctor’s neck. 

I started back in terror, but Maurice, always cool, raised 
his rifle and fired. 

The snake drew back and disappeared among the palm 
leaves. Whether the shot took effect or not, I cannot say, 
for we did not pause to investigate. 

‘‘Now you see!” said the Doctor. “Pleasant prospect 
for the night if we should happen to miss our way. Once 
in India I spent three nights in the jungle. I tell you those 
nights will live in my memory until my dying day.” 

“ But we are not going to stay here all night,” answered 
Maurice. 

Suddenly he paused. A puzzled expression passed over 
his face, for we had come to a division in the path.” 

“ By Jove! ” cried the Doctor. “ What did I tell you? ” 

“ We want to keep to the right,” I said emphatically, for 
I felt certain that I remembered the place. 

“ Are you sure? ” asked Maurice. 

“ As certain as I can be.” 

“We passed three such divisions coming down,” inter- 
posed the Doctor; “ what do you go by? Is there any land- 
mark that you particularly observed? ” 

I was obliged to confess that there was not, and yet I felt 
so positive of my position that I repeated my assertion with 
some warmth. 

“ What do you say. Doctor? ” asked Maurice. “ Shall we 
venture? ” 

“Faith, my dear boy, we might as well try one road as the 
other,” he replied lightly, “ but with all due deference to 
Brother Wylde, I doubt if he knows any more about it than 
we do.” 

“ Very well; I am quite willing to yield my opinion,” said 


MIRRIKH. 


45 


I. But they would not have it so. Since I had an opinion 
and they had none, it was decided to take the right hand 
path. 

As we hurried on the jungle seemed to grow denser, yet 
the path remained clearly defined. 

“ I am becoming more and more convinced that we are 
going wrong,’' said the Doctor, at length. “ Look at that 
fan palm — I am certain we did not pass it. A beautiful 
specimen. I should have been sure to notice it particularly, 
but as it is I am ready to swear I never saw it before.” 

‘‘ Shall we retrace our steps then?” I asked, for I had 
become less confident myself. 

“ Suppose we push on a little further,” said Maurice. 
“It seems to me I can distinguish an opening on ahead.” 

“ Which would go to prove that we are astray,” added the 
Doctor, “ for we passed no clearing of any sort coming 
down.” 

“ True; but it may be a native village where we could find 
a guide,” said I. 

“ Hark! ” cried Maurice. “ What was that? An elephant, 
surely!” 

For an instant a shrill trumpeting resounded through the 
forest and then all grew still. 

“Come on!” shouted Maurice, unslinging his rifle. “It 
has always been my ambition to bag an elephant and the 
chance has come at last!” 

We pushed on, advancing with as much caution as pos- 
sible. Again the trumpeting was heard, and still again. 

“ An elephant it is beyond all question,” said Philpot, 
“but I’m afraid you can’t kill it, after all, Maurice.” 

“Why not, I’d like to know! Do you mean to intimate 
that my shooting is sO poor that I couldn’t hit a beast as big 
as the side of a house? ” 

“ Not at all,” laughed the Doctor. “ I only mean to inti- 
mate that your elephant is a tame one. Look there!” 

We had rounded a turn in the path now and saw directly 
ahead a large elephant, standing beneath a cocoa palm which 
formed one' of a grove of similar trees surrounding a little 
collection of grass-thatched huts. 

“ A village!” I exclaimed. “This settles it. We are on 
the wrong road.” 

“And it puts a finish to De Veber’s elephant hunt!” 
laughed the Doctor. “ Why that beast is half blind and 


MIRRIKH. 


46 

looks as though he might be crowding a hundred. But 
where are all the people? ” 

There was no one to be seen; at least no one but the 
aged elephant, who stood there leisurely waving his trunk 
back and forth and peering at us out of his little eyes in a 
fashion which disproved the Doctor’s theory of blindness. 
There were at least a dozen of the huts; the doors all stood 
wide open, with fowls running in and out, and stretched 
directly across the threshold of one lay an old sow with her 
litter of pigs who blinked at us lazily, and then, apparently 
assured that we were harmless, closed her eyes with a satis- 
fied grunt. 

‘‘Good!’* cried the Doctor. “This is precisely what we 
want. We shall be sure to find a guide here who will take 
us over to Angkor for a few ticals. Hello there! Hello!” 

There was no direct answer, but at the same instant the 
echoes of the forest were awakened by a piercing scream, 
which seemed to proceed from behind the huts among the 
palms. 

“ By Jove!” exclaimed the Doctor. “A female in distress? 
It is, as I live! Shades of my ancestors! This won’t do! 
No true born Briton can turn away from that appeal.” 

Now the cry came again. It was surely that of a woman 
in agony, just as the Doctor said. 

We hurried behind the huts, coming upon a group of 
half-naked natives, who were clustering about two giant 
cocoa palms in the middle of a little clearing. 

“ Thunder and Mars! What barbarity!” burst from the 
Doctor, as we looked ahead. 

Between the palms was a young girl, her only dress the 
panoung, or Siamese breech cloth, worn by men, which 
dropped from the waist below the knees. She was bound 
by the wrists and ankles to the two trees writhing under 
the blows of a strip of rawhide wielded by a wicked looking 
fellow behind her. Each time it descended a shout of 
satisfaction went up from those who crowded around. 

“ I’ll soon put a stop to this!” shouted the Doctor. “ Noth- 
ing of the sort can be allowed with your uncle about.” 

Never had I respected the man as I did at that moment 
when he sprang away from us and dashed fearlessly among 
the group. 

Not that Maurice and I were backward. Cocking our 
rifles we followed the Doctor, shouting as we went. 


MIRRIKH. 


47 


But there was nothing to fear. The instant the crowd 
saw us they fell back, the half-naked cowards scampering 
off in every direction, not, however, before the Doctor had 
caught the flogger and dashed him to the earth. The fellow 
made no resistence, but went crawling off on his hands and 
knees like some animal, disappearing among the palms. 

Meanwhile Maurice had whipped out his knife and cut 
the cords which bound the girl, who seemed to have fallen 
into a state of unconsciousness. I would have helped him 
had I not been prevented by my legs being suddenly seized 
by an aged, white haired man, who crouched upon the 
ground weeping and muttering. With some little difficulty 
I managed to free myself, and extending a hand raised him 
to his feet.” 

“ What does all this mean? ” I exclaimed. “ Look, 
Doctor! These people are white!” 

I had used the word when perhaps I should not, for cer- 
tainly the girl was not white, her skin having rather the 
yellowish tinge of the Spaniard or Portuguese. And yet 
she was beautiful. As my eyes turned toward her I saw it 
and wondered that I had not seen it at the first. Never was 
there a form of more correct proportions! Never such hair 
as those long black tresses, hanging loosely in a thick mass 
over her shoulders; as for the face every feature was perfec- 
tion itself, a study for a sculptor; involuntarily my mind 
pictured the Venus di Milo, and then 

Why then, as my eyes rested upon her while she stood sup- 
ported by Maurice, a most singular thing happened to me. 

Suddenly all my surroundings seemed blotted out and I 
could see only the girl, and the sight seemed to move my 
heart as it had never been moved before. 

What did it mean ? 

Was it a case of love? 

Love! Had I ever known it? Never, certainly, as I 
knew it then! 

As I gazed upon that still, tear-stained face, a strange 
tingling shot through me down to my very toes, and I 
was seized with an instant of jealousy of Maurice; a long- 
ing to tear her from him and fly with her to the forest, to 
bury myself in its most remote recesses where I could live 
for her alone! 

Was I mad? Was this the man who had cursed the fair 
sex with that bitterness which can be had only by sad ex- 


48 MIRRIKH. 

perience ? What was the meaning of this sudden freak ? 

Certainly I was not master of my own actions when I 
leaped forward and seizing her bleeding form pressed it to 
my heart! 

Yes, in that moment I must have been mad; though in the 
days that followed, when memory recalled my ridiculous 
action, I came to believe that the man Mirrikh was in a 
measure responsible; that the mere touch of his hand had 
brought to life some force within me the nature of which I 
do not pretend to explain. But this is anticipating the out- 
come of our strange rheeting at Panompin. I must return. 

The instant I found my arms about the girl I was myself 
again, and amazed at what I had done. 

Love! Why, to me love meant misery — misery pure and 
unadulterated. I had drank my fill of the fatal cup before 
this and the draught had sickened me. Almost roughly I 
pushed the girl back upon Maurice who was regarding me 
in mild surprise. 

Take her! Take her!” I exclaimed. She is too heavy 
for me — I shall let her fall.” 

‘‘Take the devil!” he cried half angrily. “ Have you 
lost your senses? What do you mean? You were so anxious 
to get her, now keep her. I don’t know anything about 
women and don’t want to.” Angrily he drew away. 

But Maurice was not quick enough. Before he could 
prevent it I had again transferred the burden to his arms, 
a strange shudder passing over me as I let her go. 

“ I beg your pardon, old fellow, I — I’m a little upset by all 
this,” I stammered. “ If you can’t hold her why lay her 
down on the grass.” 

“ Now that’s more like it,” muttered Maurice. “ Here, 
let the old fellow take care of her — he’s the proper person. 
Hello there. Doctor! Tell him to look after the girl, will 
you? I don’t want the responsibility of this.” 

“ It’s all right. She’s only fainted. I saw that at the 
start,” replied the Doctor, who had been talking to the old 
man in Siamese. She’s his daughter, he says. He’ll look 
after her, boys.” 

The man was at her side in an instant, for be very sure 
Maurice lost no time in laying the girl down. Hastily bend- 
ing over her he pressed his hand upon her heart, and then 
turning suddenly, flung himself at Maurice’s feet, kissing 
them again and again, at the same time clutching his ankles 


MIRRIKH. 


49 


SO that the boy could not move. Meanwhile the Doctor, 
seized by some sudden notion had started off on the run 
toward the huts. 

Maurice’s face was a study as he tried to free himself from 
the old man’s grasp. 

Great heavens! Has everybody run mad but me! ” he 
shouted. “ Take him off, George! Take him off, will you? 
I don't want to kick the old fellow, but I can’t stand this.” 

I interfered and in a moment had rescued him. 

** Ye gods! but that’s a relief! ” cried Maurice, as the old 
man returned to the girl again. “ What a row we’ve all got 
into, to be sure! Is she dead, George? Where’s the Doctor? 
He knows everything and ought to be here now. One 
would think you’d both been bitten by the tarantula. Con- 
found him! Why did he run away? ” 

No, no! She’s not dead. It’s only a faint,” I exclaimed. 

She’ll come out of it all right.” 

Something of a physician myself, I bent down hastily and 
feeling heart and pulse saw that there was really nothing to 
be feared. I was right, too. A few drops of brandy from 
Maurice’s flask speedily brought a return of consciousness. 
Perceiving a spring among the palms near by, I fetched 
some water in an earthen pot, which I happily discovered, 
and with this the old man tenderly bathed her head and the 
bleeding welts upon her back, talking incessantly in an un- 
known tongue. I could not fail to notice that his conver- 
sation was directed toward Maurice, whom he evidently 
regarded as responsible for the whole affair. 

Meanwhile the Doctor continued absent and Maurice 
kept right on growling; he had not got over my moment of 
folly it seemed. Nor had I recovered from it either, and I 
was furious with myself about it. As I could not look 
toward the girl without starting into life the same absurd 
sensations, I bravely looked the other way. 

Confound it all! it will be dark in a few moments!” ex- 
claimed Maurice. Why don’t he come? We want to be 
getting out of this.” 

It was quite evident that he was right. Not only was 
night approaching, but the sky, hitherto perpetually serene, 
had now begun to cloud over, and the faint sighing of the 
wind through the palms seemed to indicate an approaching 
storm. 

Meanwhile the girl had arisen and stood leaning against 


MIRRIKH. 


SO 

her father, who kept “ firing words at us,’* as Maurice ex- 
pressed it, which of course were wholly unintelligible. 

“Yes, yes, it’s all right!” said Maurice, nodding good 
naturedly. “ Much obliged — never forget us, and all that 
sort of thing. We understand.” 

Suddenly the old fellow made a dart off among the palms 
and vanished. 

“Great heavens! is he going to leave the girl on our 
hands? ” cried Maurice, in evident alarm. But before we 
had time to discuss it there he was back again, carrying in 
his arms a rawhide pack which he flung upon the ground at 
Maurice’s feet. Still chattering, he loosened the straps and 
opening the pack drew out a loose, cotton garment, blue in 
color and fashioned something like the native pajama, which 
he proceeded to throw over the shoulders of the girl who, 
with downcast eyes, stood quietly by his side. 

Now he bent over the pack again and took out a large 
camel’s hair shawl of exquisite pattern and laid it over 
Maurice’s arm with a profound salaam. 

“That’s for you!” said I. “See what you get for your 
share in this business.” 

“But I don’t want it! I’m no more entitled to it than 
you are, George! What in the world am I to do with the 
thing? ” 

Indeed, he would have returned the gift, but the old man 
either could not or would not comprehend. 

Salaaming again, this time including both of us, he hastily 
closed the pack, slung it upon his shoulders, and taking the 
girl by the hand tottered off among the palms. 

Was she actually going? Again those ridiculous sensations 
seemed to seize me. I longed to rush forward to drag her 
back, but I restrained myself, disgusted at my own thoughts 
which not for worlds would I have had Maurice know. 
“We ought to stop them — we ought to know more of this 
matter;” was all I could trust myself to say. 

“Why?” asked Maurice, indifferently. “We’ve done all 
that could be expected of us, George. Let them go their 
way. Hello! Here’s the Doctor back at last, and its about 
time, I must say.” 

I turned to look. Philpot was approaching from the di- 
rection of the huts. When my gaze reverted toward the 
forest again it was only to get a last glimpse of that singular 
pair disappearing among the palms, hand in hand. 


MIRRIKH. 51 

“ Hello! Where are those people?’' exclaimed the Doc- 
tor, as he came hurrying up a few minutes later on. 

“ Gone,” replied Maurice, and it’s time we were going 
too. What in thunder made you run off the way you did? ” 
Why, the old man said they had robbed him of all his 
money,” cried the Doctor. ‘‘ Told me it was in a little 
canvas bag; the reason they were beating the girl was to 
make her confess where he had hidden the rest.” 

“ And you went to get it back? ” 

Yes. I pitied them. Unfortunate wretches! Said he 
was a peddler from a country to the north of this. Why, 
he begged me, with tears in his eyes, to get back the money, 
saying that he was ruined, and all that sort of thing, and 
now he has gone and lit out without even waiting to see 
what success I met with. I say it begins to look as though 
I’d been played for a fool.” 

“ Did you get the money? ” asked Maurice. 

Got nothing,” was the angry response. Couldn’t 
come up with one of those fellows. The whole village is 
deserted now, except for the elephant and the pigs. Con- 
found the luck! I wanted to see the head-man, as they 
call him, and make him tell us our way. There never were 
such precious cowards as these Siamese. I say, De Veber, 
where did you get the shawl?” 

Explanations were evidently in order now all around, and 
the next five minutes were spent in making them. 

I expected to learn something about the old man and his 
daughter, but was disappointed, for the Doctor had already 
told all he knew. 

“ What were those people, anyhow? ” asked Maurice. 
‘^They looked too white to be Siamese, or Cambodians 
either, for that matter.” 

“ Certainly they were neither, though the old chap spoke 
Siamese well enough,” replied the Doctor. ‘‘ I wish to 
goodness you fellows hadn’t let them off so easily. I’m 
puzzled to know why the man should have humbugged me 
about the money the way he did.” 

You don’t think he had lost any money then? ” I asked. 
Why of course not. Do you suppose he would have 
trotted off if he had? ” 

Probably not. Yet I can’t see his motive.” 

I rather suspect he thought we were French officers and 
might detain them both until the outrage could be invest- 


52 


MIRRIKH. 


igated, though why he should have picked me out for the 
leader and tried that clever dodge to get me out of the way, 
I can’t understand.” 

•‘Come, come! ” cried Maurice, “time enough has been 
wasted over this adventure. Night is right on top of us, 
and a storm along with it, if I am any judge of Siamese 
meteorology. Let us get back to the place we turned off as 
soon as possible, and try the left hand trail.” 

There was sound common sense in l,his, yet, in spite of 
myself, my thoughts would wander toward the forest. 
“ What do you think of the shawl. Doctor? ” I asked 
abruptly, in the effort to shake them off. 

“ Why, it’s a genuine camel’s hair. Did the old man give 
it to you, De Veber? ” 

“ Yes; I had to accept it.” 

“ Had to accept it! I only wish it had been me then. 
Why man, that shawl would bring a good hundred pounds 
in London..” 

“ No! ” 

“ Fact, I assure you. I didn’t notice what it was till 
Wylde called my attention to it, A famous present for the 
future Mrs. De Veber. You will do well to hold on to it.” 

He was right, too. I may as well mention that the shawl 
was finally sold for Perhaps it was the last part of 

Philpot’s remark that made Maurice so anxious to get rid 
of it. I remember well how he laughed when he answered: 

“ I shall hold it till it rots then before I put it to the use 
you suggest. Mrs. De Veber is a long way in future. I’m 
afraid she will never find any use for her shawl.” 

“ What? Opposed to the divine institution,” cried the 
Doctor. “ Give me your hand young man? You are a 
fellow after my own heart. I wouldn’t marry the best 
woman in the world, no, not if she were hung with 
diamonds. But a young chap like you can scarcely be ex- 
pected to feel that way.” 

“ I think I am one of the select few who are willing to 
profit by the experience of others,” laughed Maurice. 

“Wiseman! And have the matrimonial experiences of 
your friends then been so disastrous? ” 

“ Ask Wylde,” Maurice was beginning, when I checked 
him with a frown. The Doctor saw it, and, with that per- 
fect politeness of which he was certainly master when he 
chose to exert himself, immediately changed the subject. 


MIRRIKH. 53 

‘‘Come! Let us get on,” he exclaimed. “There’s mis- 
chief in yonder clouds. We have no time to waste.” 

We now hurried through the village, pausing for a 
moment to see if we could catch a glimpse of some of the 
cowardly inhabitants, and gain a word of information about 
the path back to Angkor. 

“ No go,” said the Doctor. “ We shan’t find ’em. Any- 
how, this is nothing but a wood-cutters’ camp, probably be- 
longing to some of the people in Siamrap.” 

None of the villagers were to be seen, and, still discussing 
our adventure, we now retraced our steps through the 
jungle. Darkness was rapidly approaching, and there was 
no time to be lost. 

But our discussion left us where we started — nowhere. 

Maurice and I had depended upon the Doctor to enlight- 
en us. The dependence proved futile. The Doctor had no 
suggestion to offer. 

•* More of your mysterious people, Wylde,” he said in his 
usual half-sneering way. “We shall have to hold you re- 
sponsible for the whole business. Gad, boys, but she was a 
little beauty! If I had dreamed that our acquaintance 
would be so brief, I should certainly have stayed by her. 
Now De Veber gets all the glory, and ” 

“ And the shawl!” broke in Maurice. “ Take it if you 
want it. I acknowledge you as the rescuer of the fair one. 
Why, even George was more active than I, and yet I have 
reaped the reward.” 

“ Nonsense! What do I want of your shawl, but I will be 
tolerably obliged to you for a cheroot. I understand the 
whole business. It was your good looks that did it, De 
Veber. Alongside of a Yankee Apollo, what chance could 
two old birds like Wylde and myself hope to stand?” 

Coming from one of his cloth, there was something intol- 
erably repulsive to me in these flippant remarks. Yet why 
should that have influenced me? I had abjured the man’s 
creed, I despised his profession, I had laughed when he 
made light of it, and yet now I seemed to demand of him a 
greater delicacy of thought, a purity of sentiment than pos- 
sessed by the average man, although I had put him down 
for an average man and nothing more. 

It grew darker, and darker, and yet the sun must have 
still been there behind the clouds, for twilight is a thing un- 
known in Siam. Now the whole heavens were obscured, and 


54 


MIRRIKH. 


the hot south wind swept our faces, passing among the tree- 
tops with a sighing which foretold the approaching storm. 

It is certainly going to rain,’’ said Maurice anxiously, 
‘‘ and it will be dark in next to no time. I wish we were at 
the place where we turned off.” 

‘‘ It is dark now,” I answered, as even the trifle of light 
remaining grew suddenly less, and the deepening shadows 
told me that the sun was down at last. 

Philpot peered about anxiously. 

Plague take the fork in the path — where is it?” he ex- 
claimed. Do you know what I begin to fear? ” 

That we have been going wrong again? ” I asked. 

‘^That’s about the size of it.” 

** It would not surprise me. Who said this was the same 
trail? I declare I saw the path and just followed it — that 
is about all.” 

“ What? Do you mean to tell me that! By Jove, man! 
I’ve been following you! ” 

And I,” added Maurice have been tamely following 
both of you.” 

“Blind, leading the blind,” cried the Doctor. “ Look here, 
if we don’t strike the junction soon, we’re in for a night of 
it, and had better return to the wood-cutters’ camp before 
it’s too dark to find the way.” 

“ And have our throats cut before morning? ” retorted 
Maurice. “ No, thank you. I don’t pretend to the know- 
ledge of the Siamese character that you claim, but catch me 
running my neck into any such noose as that.” 

That the situation was becoming serious there was no 
denying. We plunged on, the ground growing low and 
marshy as we advanced. A bad indication. We had pass- 
ed through nothing of the sort on our way to the wood- 
cutters’ camp. 

Now the wind began to moan more ominously, and the 
darkness increased to that extent that we could no longer 
see our way. 

“ Delightful, ain’t it?” sneered Philpot. “ Heavens! I’m 
in water up to my knees.” 

He was only a few yards ahead of us, but we could no 
longer see him. 

“ Give me a hand boys, or I’m stuck! ” he called. “ I’m 
slowly sinking. Lord knows where! ” 

We pulled him out with considerable difficulty, all retreat- 
ing a few steps to more solid ground. 


MIRRIKH. 


55 


Are you all right now? ” questioned Maurice. 

All right for a fever!’* was the reply. “Your flask, like a 
good fellow, De Veber. Nothing like a little brandy as a 
preventive.” 

His “little ” would have set my brain reeling, but it ap- 
peared to have but slight effect. I thought then that I 
could comprehend reasons for his want of success in the 
pulpit which the Rev. Miles Philpot had failed to name. 

“ Don’t drink it dry. Doctor, said Maurice. “ George and 
I may need a dose before we get out of this scrape.” 

“Yours truly! I leave you the flask,” he replied, with 
that good humor which nothing seemed to ruffle. “ Now 
boys, we’re in a hole. How are we to get out of it! Decis- 
ion must be had at once Hark! Was that thunder? The 
plot thickens, the darkness deepens! My inventive Yankee 
friends, what’s to be did?” 

“ In my opinion, the sooner we get back to the wood- 
cutters’ huts the better,” I said decidedly. 

At that instant the low, ominous growling heard a moment 
before was repeated. It seemed to me that I could hear 
also rustling sounds among the tangled thicket which had 
now taken the place of the atap palms and other trees of 
respectable growth on either side of our path. 

I trembled. Thoughts of theMangers of the jungle would 
suggest themselves. I instinctively unslung my rifle and 
held it ready in my hand. 

“ More thunder? ” said Maurice. “ Come, come, we must 
decide quick. Plague take these mosquitoes! They are as 
thick as bees around a hive.” 

“ Hark!” exclaimed Philpot, suddenly. “ I’m not so sure 
it is thunder.” 

Nor was I. Presently it came again — a low, sullen growl, 
beginning in the deepest bass — rising slightly, then sinking 
into the bass again. 

I was glad of the darkness then, for I knew my face must 
have been livid. 

“ A tiger,” I suppose, I said as coolly as possible. 

“As sure as we are lost in the jungle,” whispered the 
Doctor. “ Even those wood-cutters are preferable. Come! 
There is no time to be lost.” 

Again he started ahead, for the path was so narrow that 
single file was a necessity. 

“ I don’t believe it’s a tiger,” said Maurice incredulously. 


56 


MIRRIKH. 


Don’t deceive yourself, De Veber,” said the Doctor, “it 
is nothing else. “Not,” he added, “ that there is any great 
danger of the beast attacking us. But ” 

The sentence remained uncompleted; or rather- it was 
completed in a way which, to my dying day, I am not likely 
to forget. 

A quick rush, a violent stirring of the thicket, followed 
by a yell which set us all trembling, and a huge, dark form 
leaped out upon the path before us, pausing not three yards 
from the spot where Philpot stood. 

“ Great God!” I heard Maurice exclaim, and I knew, 
rather than saw, that he grasped his rifle. 

But I was as one paralyzed, I could see the flash of those 
awful eyes, could see the beast crouch for a spring, could 
hear its tail lash the ground and yet I never made a move. 

Though wholly unarmed, poor Philpot stood his ground 
like a Trojan. A second of awful suspense followed. 

I could hear the click of Maurice’s rifle. I wondered 
why he did not fire, when suddenly a light broke upon the 
scene, and to my utter amazement I saw a man leap from 
the thicket directly in front of the Doctor, and dash a flaming 
torch into the tiger’s face. 

It was the work of an instant. The next and all danger 
had passed. 

Bushes, the path, my companions, everything seemed 
swimming about me. I saw the great cat retreating into the 
jungle. I heard the Doctor shout, but until the man who 
had burst so unceremoniously into our midst, stooped and 
recovered the torch, I did not realize the full significance of 
the scene. 

Then as the light struck upon his face I knew him. Seen 
in that weird glare the sight was even more marvellous now. 
It was a face black below, yellowish white above. 

It was the mysterious Mr. Mirrikh to whom we were 
indebted. Calm and dignified he stood there as though 
nothing unusual had occurred. 






CHAPTER VI. 


STORM BOUND IN THE OLD STONE TOWER. 

Good evening, gentlemen. You tarry late in the forest. 
Let me advise you to seek shelter as soon as possible, for 
unless all signs fail a storm is at hand.” 

It was Mr. Mirrikh who thus addressed our little party, 
as we all stood there staring at him like a parcel of geese, 
without even a word of thanks for what he had done. 

The voice recalled me to myself and I hurried forward to 
greet him, offering my hand which he grasped cordially. 

“ My dear sir, how can we thank you? ” I said. Let me 
introduce you — the Rev. Miles Philpot, Mr. Mirrikh. Mau- 
rice, surely you have not forgotten Mr. Mirrikh so soon!” 

It was a brave effort on my part, but alas! It came to 
nothing. They could not help staring at that face — no one 
could help it — I, myself, could not. 

Maurice muttered something and extended his hand also, 
but Mr. Mirrikh seemed not to see it, while the Doctor just 
blurted out: 

‘‘ Gad, where did you spring from? I’m awfully obliged 
to you for what you did, don’t you know, but that face of 
yours ” 

“Yes, we are late!” I burst out in a voice which was in- 
tended to smother the Doctor’s impudent allusion, and did. 
“We were over at Ballambong and have been delayed, lost 
our way.” 

He smiled at me kindly and then, without answering or 
even looking toward Philpot until it was done, took out 
the black cloth and quietly proceeded to ajust it about his 
face. 

“ Now sir, you may look at me without disgust,” he said, 
coolly, addressing himself to the Doctor. “ Possibly you are 
not aware of the danger you have escaped? ” 

It was well timed and recalled Philpot to himself. 

“ Indeed I am, and owe you a big debt of gratitude,” he 
hastened to say. “ Pardon my curiosity, I ” 

“Did you say you had missed your way, Mr. Wylde?” in- 


6o 


MIRRIKH. 


terrupted Mr. Mirrikh, turning his back squarely upon him. 

I fear so.’' 

You wish to return to Angkor of course? 

“Of course.” 

“ Take my advice and make no such attempt,’^ he said 
hastily. “ A storm of unusual violence is certainly approach- 
ing, and the best thing you can do is to get under cover as 
soon as you possibly can.” 

“ But where can we find shelter? In the wood-cutters’ 
village back there we shall hardly be safe.” 

“ I do not refer to the wood-cutters’ village,” he inter- 
rupted. “ Keep directly on as you are going. About a 
quarter of a mile further and you will come to a hill upon 
which stands an old stone tower, once an observatory they 
say. It is a ruinous old affair, but it will afford you shelter. 
You had best be quick or you will be half drowned before 
you can make it. Good night.” 

He turned to leave us, but I could not have him go so. 
The recollection of the bag preyed upon me. How guilty 
I felt. Did he know? Had he in addition to his other 
wonderful acquirements the power of reading men’s thoughts? 

“ Stay! ” I exclaimed, “ I feel that we have not half ex- 
pressed our gratitude. If you had not happened along as 
you did — ” 

“ But I did, and there’s been enough said already,” he 
replied. “ I have been at Ballambong myself, and was on 
my way through the jungle to another ruin near here. Just 
as I heard your voices I happened to spy the man-eater. I 
have been tiger hunting many times in India, and have seen 
that trick played before. It was a fortunate thing for all 
of you that I happened to have this torch.” 

“But will you not remain with us?” I persisted. “ You 
stand in the same need of shelter that we do, surely,” 

He shook his head, and smiled peculiarly. 

“ No, I do not fear the storm, I love it. What is so grand 
as to witness a conflict of the elements in a tropical forest? 
Nothing that I know of. It brings man to such a thorough 
realization of his own insignificance; besides I have a place 
of shelter in view, and shall surely reach it. Perhaps I may 
see you again before the storm is over. Until then, 
adieu! ” 

He bowed low, crossing his arms after the Eastern fash- 
ion, and before I could say another word, glided into the 


MIRRIKH. 


6l 

thicket and disappeared, leaving us stupidly staring at the 
place where he had stood. 

Philpot was the first to break the silence. 

‘‘Well, upon my word!" he exclaimed, “if that fellow 
ain’t a puzzle there never was one in the world." 

“ He’s a gentleman, at all events," I replied coolly, 
“ which, considering the way you acted, is more than I can 
say for you.” 

“Come, come, George, none of that!" cried Maurice 
hastily. 

“Thank you," replied the Doctor. “Your remark is 
plainness itself, Wylde, and I am free to admit it is not 
undeserved." 

“ The same may be said of me," added Maurice. “ I 
can never get used to that man’s face." 

“ I’d give something if I could have touched it," added 
the Doctor. “ It’s painted, just as sure as you live." 

“ Nonsense! It’s nothing of the sort," I answered, testily. 
“ Disease may have produced it, but fraud, never." 

“ Don’t be too sure, Wylde," said the Doctor. 

“ But I am sure. Remember I have seen it in the daylight." 

“You are wrong. Doctor," added Maurice. “You are 
certainly wrong, and George is just as certainly right. Did 
you in your travels ever see anything like it before? " 

“ Never! " 

“ Or hear of any disease which could produce it? " 

“ I am certain there is none. In my younger days I 
devoted a year or two to the study of medicine — that was 
before I thought of the pulpit. I can assure you both that 
disease never made that face what it is." 

“ In other words, it is as unaccountable to you as to 
Wylde and myself; as unaccountable as the man’s sudden 
appearance among us. Of course, he was not at Ballam- 
bong, or we should have seen him, and, even if he was, why 
should he go beating his way through the jungle instead of 
choosing the path? " 

“ Conundrums, every one of them, and I am not Yankee 
enough to be good at guessing," replied the Doctor. 

But I had not regained my temper yet, for the recollect- 
ion of the bag still troubled me. 

“ Explain the mystery or not, as you can," I said, “ the 
fact remains, Philpot, that the man saved your life, and you 
were barely civil to him in return." 


MIRRIKH. 


62 


‘‘Confound it, AVylde, why do you keep harping on 
that? ” he answered almost hotly. “ Do you make no al- 
lowance for a fellow’s astonishment? I’ll bet you a shilling 
when you first saw that face you were as much taken aback 
as I. You’ve said enough — let it rest.” 

“ Yes, and while you two are squabbling, what is to hind- 
er the tiger from returning? ” put in Maurice. “ I move we 
get out of this.” 

“ It is time,” I answered, dryly. “Look! The storm is 
almost upon us. Which way shall we go? ” 

“ To the old stone tower,” said Maurice promptly. “ We 
shall do well to follow his advice.” 

“ We’ll do it! ” exclaimed the Doctor. “ AVe’ll take his 
advice, and, by the eternal gods, if he does favor us with 
another call. I’ll have his secret out of him, or know the 
reason why.” 

We now hurried on, crossing the swampy stretch in the 
path before us as best we could. Fortunately, it was of no 
great extent, and we soon found ourselves upon rising 
ground. 

Clearly there was no time to be lost, for the sky had now 
assumed an inky blackness, and there was barely light 
enough to enable us to see our way. 

“ If we don’t find his tower we are going to be in a sweet 
fix;” growled Philpot, after a little. “Hark! Did you 
hear that? Boys, I tell you there’s no time to lose.” 

It was thunder this time. A growl, a low rumbling 
followed by a faint breath of wind which struck our faces 
with refreshing coolness in that moist, stifling heat. 

Suddenly there was a rush among the bushes ahead of us, 
and some animal dashed across our path, disappearing in 
the thicket beyond, while the shrill screams of paroquets 
and birds whose notes were unknown, told us that we were 
not the only creatures in the jungle in dread of the 
approaching storm. 

“ Run! ” cried Maurice. “ Every moment is precious.” 

I felt my heart sink as we dashed ahead. 

What if we had missed the tower? What if we were to 
be forced to brave the fury of this storm in the forest? 
Yet, after all, why should I care — I, who felt no interest in 
life? 

And, as we ran, I could not but think of Mr. Mirrikh. 
Were there actually other ruins hidden in the jungle? Surely 


MIRRIKH. 


63 


he would not venture among the wood-cutters, with every 
probability of receiving even a ruder reception than he had 
experienced at the hands of the Panompin mob. 

I was deeply puzzled. More so, far more so, than I had 
shown to my companions. I half expected, I own, to see 
him suddenly spring out upon us again. I would not have 
been surprised if I had spied him flying through the air 
above our heads like the witches of old. But I kept my 
thoughts to myself, and we hurried on. 

Soon the wind had increased to a gale, and the giant 
trees of a belt of woodland which we had now entered bent 
beneath it. The thunder, too, was growing deafening, with 
claps alternately loud and stifled, short and prolonged, 
sharp and crackling, while blinding flashes of light illumin- 
ated our surroundings with terrible distinctness, only to 
make the darkness more profound when the change came. 

But, as yet, no rain — that was still in reserve. Come it 
must, we knew, and we ran with all speed, peering about 
for the hill which Mr. Mirrikh had described. 

It’s no use, George! * Either there is no tower, or we 
must have passed it! ” cried Maurice. 

The words were no more than spoken, when a frightful 
crash resounded through the forest, and a flash of unusual 
intensity showed us a gigantic tree whose trunk our united 
arms could not have encircled, topple and fall directly be- 
fore us, bringing down with it a mass of orchids and other 
parasitic plants, while a colony of monkeys which had 
taken refuge among its branches, scampered away, scream- 
ing and chattering to seek other shelter. It is needless to 
say we were brought to a halt. 

‘‘Merciful God! but this is terrible!” cried the Doctor. 
“ We are safe nowhere. Ha ! here comes the rain at 
last!” 

He was right. First great drops against our faces, then a 
torrent, then a flood. It was the first storm of the season 
and if there were any worse before the dry months came 
again, I thank God I was not there to see. 

Now came a lightning flash hardly equal to its predeces- 
sor, but of vastly more interest to us. 

“ Look! look! shouted Maurice. “ The tower!” 

We saw it before he spoke, otherwise we might never have 
seen it at all, for in a second all was darkness and the thun- 
der rolling and crashing again. 


64 


MIRRIKH. 


Forward!’' cried the Doctor. ''I saw the hill and a 
flight of stone steps leading up.” 

We leaped over the fallen tree and following the Doctor 
soon found ourselves at the beginning of steps leading 
up a hill which must surely have been artificial. It was 
about one hundred feet in height and cut in terraces paved 
with stone. Up upon these terraces four staircases led — I 
describe the place as I saw it afterward — solid stone affairs 
having hand-rails, ornamented with lions, beautifully carved, 
and at the top stood a large circular tower of considerable 
circumference, completely overgrown with shrubs and vines. 
On the level space about it dozens of great trees had 
forced their roots down between the blocks of the pavement 
and were now swaying wildly before the blast. 

By gracious! Mirrikh was right George!” cried Maurice, 
as we gained the platform at the top of the steps. Here is 
the tower, sure enough!” 

But the door — where is the door!” shouted the Doctor, 
his words scarcely distinguishable above the howl of the 
storm. 

We ran entirely around the building before we found it, 
and then it was just about where we had started from, half 
hidden by a mass of vines which hung trailing down from 
the stones above. 

It was I who made the discovery; pushing the vines aside 
we made our way into a circular enclosure, from one side of 
which a flight of stairs led up into the tower; the only 
peculiar feature it possessed, except a huge stone image of 
Buddha which occupied a sitting position in a niche to the 
right of the staircase. A veritable colossus, three times life 
size, but in a sad state of delapidation, being minus a leg, an 
arm and the better part of the nose. In front of the pedestal 
was a circular depression in the stone floor half filled with 
bits of charcoal, and behind the image Maurice found quite 
a pile of dry brush wood which showed that this was not 
the first time the old stone tower had served as a shelter. 
Meanwhile the storm raged more fiercely than ever and the 
continual crashing of thunder was something awful to hear. 

Involuntarily I thought of Mr. Mirrikh and wondered 
where in that wilderness beneath us he was just then. 
There was no other building upon the platform — that I had 
already made sure of — so if he was actually near us, and I 
half suspected it, his hiding place must be in the tower itself. 


MIRRIKH. 


65 


‘‘Thank God we are here!" exclaimed Philpot — somehow 
his pious ejaculations always sounded to my ears like pro- 
fanity — “ or rather thank your friend with the black and 
white face. I only hope he has got so good a shelter. I 
say, De Veber, lend us your shawl, will you? The rain is 
beating in through the doorway in a perfect torrent. It will 
break it a little, and cut off the draught. Ye gods! but ain’t 
it cold!" 

It was exceedingly cold and we, in our wet garments, 
were shivering in a way horribly suggestive of fever. 

Maurice brought out his brandy flask which helped us in 
imagination, if not in fact, and while Philpot busied himself 
in hanging the shawl, he and I raked out the charcoal from 
the hole before the image, brought wood from the corner, 
and as I had my matches in a waterproof case, we soon ex- 
perienced the comfortable sensations of a crackling blaze; 
which not only served to dry our clothes and warm us up, 
but made things cheerful with its light. 

Not that all these things were done in a moment. By no 
means. When we entered the tower we were in total dark- 
ness and it was only by lighting match after match that we 
were able to make out anything at all. Now the fire was 
blazing merrily and I lighted my pipe, and Maurice his 
cheroot — the Doctor sponging on my friend for his smoke 
as usual — and we all seated ourselves on the stone floor 
beside it, well satisfied with our snug retreat. 

“ We’re in for a night of it," said Philpot, “ and upon my 
soul we might have a worse place. Look at his nibs scowl- 
ing down at us there! To think of men being fools enough 
to worship that block of stone." 

He was looking up at the big image which returned his 
gaze with a stony stare, as the flashes from the fire played 
grotesquely upon its battered face. 

“ He is God to his worshippers, at all events," said Mau- 
rice, dreamily. 

“ And as good a one as the invisible Jehovah of the Jews 
and Christians," retorted Philpot. “ There, I have said it — 
don’t one of you dare to give me away boys." 

And then, as though in rebuke of his blasphemy, came a 
crash of thunder which was truly terrible. It seemed to 
shake the old tower to its very foundation stones. 

Enough!" I cried. “ Enough! Let us have no more 
of it. Though I may be to a certain extent in harmony 


66 


MIRRIKH. 


with your views, let us at least respect the prejudices of our 
fellows. Nor have I gone so far yet as to deny the existence 
of a ruling power. There must be some guiding hand which 
controls the vast machine we call the universe.” 

Good, George!” exclaimed Maurice. ‘‘ Good! It is the 
first time I ever heard you admit even that much.” 

And in truth it was a night which would have made most 
men chary of denying the existence of their God. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A DRY DISCOURSE ON MARRIAGE AND OTHER THINGS. 

Marriage,” said the Rev. Miles Philpot, it’s a snare and 
a delusion. The world were better off without it. Better 
with such easy matrimonial relations as obtain among these 
people and other Eastern nations. That is my firm convic- 
tion, based upon an experience which, believe me, has been 
by no means small.” 

We were still seated around the fire in the old stone tower 
and as the storm without was raging with unabated fury, it 
seemed altogether probable that we should be forced to 
continue there for the remainder of the night. 

Really I cannot say how our conversation came to drift 
into this channel. I have no doubt, however, that Philpot 
himself started it. Maurice had been defending the marri- 
age relation when it reached this point, while for my own 
part, finding the subject entirely distasteful, I had thus far 
kept quietly to my pipe and made no remark. 

“ I don’t agree with you all,” replied Maurice. “ It is a 
well known fact that the nations most advanced in civili- 
zation are those among whom the marriage relation is 
held to be sacred. Am I not right, George? ” 

Of course you are,” I replied. A happy conjugal 
union is ” 

“ Slavery,” interrupted Philpot, mere slavery. A wife tied 
down by pinafores and household cares is in much the same 
situation as an enterprising oyster, who can’t get off its bed 
no matter how hard it tries. As for the husband, ask any 


MIRRIKH. 


67 


poof devil who hi^s been there if slavery is not preferable. 
Besides that, marriage breeds deceit in any man who ts a 
man. A bachelor may and does do as he pleases and don't 
give a rap who knows it; but a married man must perpetually 
dissemble if he would keep the peace. It is a known fact 
that our greatest minds have been those untrammeled by 
domestic cares.” 

Have you ever been married yourself? ” I asked, ab- 
ruptly. 

“ No, thank God, nor never intend to be; though I have 
spliced at least a great gross of idiots in my time.” 

“ Whicf gives you no claim to an intimate knowledge of 
the conjugal relation, however.” 

Bah! The French manage things after my notion. 
There you have an enlightened race upon whom the sanc- 
tity of the marriage relation rests with feathery lightness. 
Don’t trust the woman unless you want to have your heart 
turned inside out, and your faith in human nature des- 
troyed. Hasn’t such been your experience, Mr. Wylde?” 

‘‘ Unfortunately it has, and probably you know it,” I 
answered, ‘‘ but, for all that, I am not shallow enough to 
fancy that because I have been unfortunate, there are no 
true women in the world.” 

I know nothing about your private affairs,” he replied, 
hastily. Pardon me if I have probed an unhealed 
wound.” 

I assure you, George, that he don’t,” Maurice hastened 
to say. never told him a solitary thing.” 

I don’t care whether he knows or not,” I said, for I 
felt in just that mood. Look here. Doctor, my wife made 
life a hell while she lived with me, and wound up by run- 
ning off with another man.” 

‘‘Indeed!” 

“ It is true. I ” 

He raised his hand and gave one of his disagreeable 
laughs. 

“ Pray spare me the details, Wylde. I have no doubt 
you were as much to blame as she was. Now with an easy 
divorce law, all this might have been avoided. As it is, 
your life is broken, your happiness destroyed, or at least 
you think so, for I have not the least doubt you will be 
idiot enough to try it again.” 

“ Thank you for the compliment — no. I’ve had enough 


68 


MIRRIKH. 


of married life, but because I’ve been bitten it don’t follow 
that marriage has brought the same unhappiness to every 
other man who has been bold enough to take the risk.” 

Oh, of course not. Nobody claims that. But a woman 
must be the husband’s slave to bring conjugal happiness. 
De Veber, ain’t that so?” 

Don’t ask me. I’ve never been married, and doubt if 
I ever shall be,” laughed Maurice. 

Take my advice,” said Philpot, “ and you never will be; 
but just the same I’d like to have your ideas on the 
subject.” 

‘‘ You’d only laugh at them if I were to undertake to ex- 
press them.” 

“ Indeed no. I’m a bit cynical, I own, but every man 
has a right to his opinion.” 

“ I don’t think the marriage relation has ever been 
properly understood.” 

‘‘ And why so? I labored under the delusion that it was 
something which scarcely called for instruction.” 

“ Doctor,” said Maurice, slowly, ‘‘which was created first, 
the man or the woman? ” 

“ Adam was the first man. Eve was the t’other, Cain was 
a wicked man, ’cause he krlled his brother,” laughed the 
Doctor. “ That’s the way the old rhyme runs.” 

“ In which there is more truth than you may fancy. But 
I put Genesis aside, for it has nothing whatever to do with 
the conclusion I have reasoned myself into.” 

“ Which is? ” 

“ Substantially this,” replied Maurice, lighting his 
cheroot by pressing it against a glowing coal. “ I don’t 
know that I shall be able to express myself, but I will try.” 

“ I’m all attention, my dear fellow.” 

“Well then, here goes. There must have been a beginning, 
and in that beginning I believe that man and woman were 
actually one, being a complete object, a harmonious 
whole.” 

“ On what do you base such a fancy, if not upon the 
Adamic tradition? ” 

“ I can hardly tell you, but it is nevertheless my belief. 
Woman is but the half of a perfect human creation — you 
cannot look at her in any other way.” 

“ Physically? ” 

“ No, spiritually; or, if you like it better, mentally. In 


MIRRIKH. 


69 


the man the reasoning principle is uppermost and strongest; 
in the woman the principle of affection. Wisdom, know- 
ledge, combined with the power of utilizing that knowledge 
and combined again with love, which embraces all the finer 
sentiments of human nature, is the power which controls 
the world. In God we have such a combination of qual- 
ifications. Man, made in the image of God, must, there- 
fore, originally have possessed these qualities so combined. 
The necessities of man’s future existence on this earth 
demanded a separation, and it was given. Hence we have 
men and women. The one possessed with wisdom, the 
other with affection. Marriage, therefore, becomes a posi- 
tive necessity; for without it, man must ever remain an 
uncompleted work,” 

“Rubbish!” broke out the Doctor. “You have been 
reading the works of some mediaeval mystic. I think I 
could name him if I chose.” 

“ On the contrary, I have never read a line which con- 
veys such notions. It is solely by thought and observation 
that I have reached these conclusions. A married man 
who is uncongenially mated, is simply one of the mistakes, 
and in no way affects my theory; an unmarried man is a 
half developed creature, and invariably a selfish one, full of 
evil qualities which, had he entered the true conjugal re- 
lation, would, to a great or less extent, have been eradicated. 
I’m afraid I don’t make myself very plain.” 

“ Your proposition is plain enough, but I can’t endorse 
it,” replied the Doctor. “ How is it with you, Wylde? ” 

“ Oh, it’s too deep a thought for me.” I answered. “ I 
have never considered marriage in that light; but it is a 
known fact, that happily married persons grow to resemble 
one another in the course of years.” 

“ Of course it is,” replied Maurice. “ Not only in out- 
ward appearance, but mentally to a far greater degree.” 

“ Then you think that in the Milenium, men and women 
will actually become one? Two souls dwelling in one 
body? ” 

“ Now you are quizzing,” replied Maurice, “and ’tis time 
to call a halt. I don’t claim that my theory has the virtue 
of novelty ” 

“ You’d better not. It’s been written upon again and 
again.” 

“ Yet, I repeat, I never read a line which helped me to 


70 


MIRRIKH. 


my way of thinking. Do you know I’ve often wondered if, 
perhaps, on some of the planets such a state of affairs did 
not actually exist.” 

“What a dreamy chap you are, to be sure, De Veber,” 
said Philpot, yawning. “ It would be a deuced disagree- 
able state of affairs if a fellow had to carry his wife about 
with him wherever he went. But I’m sick of the discussion, and 
my pipe is out. After I fill up — my dear boy I shall have 
to trouble you again for the tobacco bag — suppose we turn 
our attention to Mirrikh. A union of souls or a union of 
bodies is scarcely worth considering, but a union of black 
and white, or black and yellow, in a man’s face we have 
seen to-night, and I, for one, am puzzled to death to under- 
stand what it means.” 

“ And we might puzzle ourselves over it to all eternity, 
and then not understand it,” said Maurice. 

“Just so. Could you spare another nip of that brandy, 
De Veber? Ah, thanks! Yours truly! It shall be only a 
little one, for there’s precious little left. Devilish good 
liquor that! I’ll warrant you had it sent out to you from 
New York. Some favorite brand that you had been ac- 
customed to drinking, no doubt.” 

“On the contrary, I bought it in Panompin,” replied Mau- 
rice, “We Americans don’t all drink spirits as the English 
do. I never tasted liquor until after I left for the East.” 

“Come now, that’s pretty good!” exclaimed the Doctor. 
“ Americans don’t drink spirits like the English. Why man, 
I never knew the capacity of the human system to dispose 
of alcohol until I visited your Chicago, and that is not to 
be compared with some of the Canadian cities. But speak- 
ing of spirits, brings us by natural and easy stages to Spirit- 
ualism. Ardent spirits wandering down a fellow’s gullet 
naturally suggests wandering spirits from another sphere 
ardently seeking to return to the scene of their earthly pains 
and pleasures. There, I throw down the gauntlet, boys. 
Spiritualism — Mirrikh. Mirrikh — Spiritualism. I don’t care 
which is on top. Let the chairman of the committee on 
manifestations, materializations and mediumistic humbug- 
gery, take it up and express his views.” 

“ Bless my soul, Mr. Philpot, how you do rattle on,” I 
answered, half angrily, as I threw a few fresh sticks on the 
fire. “ What in the name of sense has Spiritualism got to do 
with Mirrikh? You don’t consider him a ghost, I suppose?” 


MIRRIKH. 


71 


“ I’m not so sure, Wylde. Not so sure.” 

What do you mean? How can an agnostic believe in 
ghosts? ” 

‘‘ He cannot, as you understand the meaning of the word 
ghost, as the world understands it; but, like De Veber and 
his marriage views, I have an odd theory of my own on the 
subject of ghosts.” 

And you are just dying to let it out, I suppose. Good; 
by all means let us have the great Philpot ghost theory. If 
it will explain the levitations of Mirrikh, the medal of the 
Angkor theosophical club is fairly yours.” 

That’§ right, George. I’m glad to see you brightening 
up. Come, Philpot, let’s have it. You claim that when 
man dies he goes to dust and there’s the end of him, and 
now you profess to believe in ghosts. I am curious to see 
how you propose to reconcile all this.” 

I go to show you, boys,” was the Doctor’s answer. 

Hitherto I have maintained a discreet silence about this 
Mirrikh business, for I wanted to actually see the man be- 
fore I expressed an opinion. Now that I have seen him I 
am ready to talk. Let us begin with the proposition, what 
is a ghost? ” 

The disembodied spirit of some deceased person, of 
course,” answered Maurice. 

“ There you are wrong. It is usually so considered, but 
it is by no means necessarily so. Indeed, if you were to in- 
vestigate this subject as closely as I have done, you would 
find that the ghosts of living persons have as frequently put 
in an appearance as the so-called disembodied spirits of the 
dead.” 

‘‘ I have heard something of this before,” said Maurice. 

Indeed I had a friend who claimed to have repeatedly 
seen the shades of living people of whose presence at distant 
points at the time of their appearance he was most positive.” 

Very good, my boy. Your friend is not alone in that. 
I, myself, have experienced the same thing. Hundreds of 
others have experienced it. Were such things recorded to 
the extent that similar appearances of dead persons have 
been, I firmly believe the world would be astounded. Take, 
for instance, the case of an old aunt of mine. When I was 
a boy, and living in London, she resided in Bristol. I was 
her favorite, and I must confess to a fondness for the dear 
old lady which I never felt for any one else. My father 


72 


MIRRIKH. 


died before I was born, and she was his sister, which, per- 
haps, accounts for it. But as I was about to say, I used 
occasionally to take a run down to Bristol to see my aunt. 
At first I always notified her of my intended visit, but upon 
one occasion I omitted to do so, and dropping in upon her 
one morning quite unexpectedly, was astonished to find a 
room all ready for me and breakfast prepared. ‘ I knew 
you were coming. Miles,* she said. ‘ You were here in this 
room last evening and told me so.* I was amazed; but 
never after that did I notify my aunt of my intended visits 
and never did I fail to find everything ready for my recep- 
tion.” 

Oh such impressions are common enough,** said Maurice. 
‘‘I could duplicate that story and give half a dozen more 
just like it.” 

No doubt. So could almost any one. Let us admit, 
therefore, that a certain degree of intensity of thought may 
command the presence of the spirit of an absent living 
friend — I use the word spirit solely for want of another as 
expressive — why, then, may we not conclude that a still 
greater intensity of thought can produce the same phenom- 
ena on a grander scale? Why not admit that it can produce, 
not actual presence, perhaps — that would be levitation, and 
I don’t admit levitation — but something so nearly akin 
to it that not only is our sense of sight deceived, but our 
senses of hearing and feeling as well.’* 

It would be almost as easy to admit levitation and be 
done with it,’* I said. 

“ Not at all. Bodily levitation is a manifest impossibility, 
but thought transference to the extent of deceiving each 
one of man’s senses into the belief that he can actually see, 
hear, and feel the person who appears before him, is almost, 
if not quite, a proven fact.” 

“ I cannot admit any such statement,” said I. 

But if you knew the Indian Buddhists as I know them 
you would be forced into the admission,” he replied. I 
tell you the things they actually do are wonderful — totally 
unexplainable. Either we must admit the existence of a 
spiritual world which is all around us, or fall back on some 
such theory as this. I tell you, gentlemen, it is no uncom- 
mon thing for some of these adepts to summon into their 
presence not only living persons from great distances, but 
material forms of those who have been long dead. That 


MIRRIKH. 


73 


I nave seen myself; hundreds of others have seen it. When 
I said I have never seen levitation I meant what I said, for 
I never did see a living man taken up by invisible force and 
carried from one place to another, nor do I ever expect to 
see it: but I have seen forms of persons both living and 
dead, persons whom I knew and had known in life, produced 
before me by more than one adept, aiid that brings me to 
my ghost theory again.” 

“Which I am more than anxious to hear,” said L 
“ Though your statements thus far are strong and your reas- 
oning subtile, you have proved nothing. If there is no such 
thing as a disembodied spirit, how can you reason out the 
existence of ghosts? ” 

“ In this way. Mesmerism, hypnotism, or whatever you 
are pleased to call it, is, of course, an admitted fact. There 
is a power existing in certain mental organizations enabling 
them to control weaker ones, and to deprive them for the 
time being of their individuality; to make them believe that 
black is white; that they are not themselves, but other people 
— living people, or dead people, it matters not which. Given 
such a mind, or such a mental state — for I believe that under 
certain favoring conditions a weak mind may possess this 
power quite as much as a strong one — and we have a force 
which can summon to our presence not only apparitions of 
living people but of dead ones. For instance, A possessed 
of this power desires to see B who is dead. The force 
leaves him just as the electric current leaves a battery. It 
cannot reach B because there is no B, but it does strike 
upon the mental receiver of C’s organization, because C is 
of a receptive nature. Then C appears to A, but instead of 
appearing as C he appears as B, because A, by his intensity 
of thought, has transformed him into B. Thus while the 
shade of B is apparently raised, while it looks, acts and even 
speaks like B, it is, after all, nothing but a transfer of indi- 
viduality. That, gentlemen, is my theory of ghosts. I fear 
it is not very clearly expressed.” 

“As clear as mud,” I replied, sneeringly. “Frankly I got 
so befogged before you were half through that I could not 
follow you. How such a theory could possibly account for 
the strange disappearances of Mr. Mirrikh, I fail to see.” 

“ Oh, I don’t claim that it does,” protested Philpot. “ Of 
course it can’t, unless, to go a step further, Mirrikh possesses 
the power I speak of to such an extent as to be able to 


74 


MIRRIKH. 


make us believe that we saw him on top of that tower when 
actually he was not there.’' 

“ Weak! Weak as water! Does that explain his disappear- 
ance in the Panompin alley? ” 

‘‘ I am constrained to admit, Wylde, that it does not.” 

‘‘ Then, as I understand it,” said Maurice, who had until 
now maintained silence, ‘‘you claim the existence of a 
natural force, a mental magnetic current, which is capable 
of producing all the so-called spiritualistic phenomena with 
which the history of the world teems?” 

“That’s it! That’s it! I firmly believe that just such a 
force exists and is as controlable as the electric current by 
those who understand its nature,” 

“ And understood by the Buddhist adepts? ” 

“I believe it.” 

“ Is it not just as easy to believe that they possess the 
secret of some natural force which can overcome the at- 
traction of gravatation?” 

“ Scarcely.” 

“ It seems so to me. I have great difficulty in following 
your reasoning, but I understand the point toward which 
you are aiming, and was amazed at the labor you were at 
to get there. Just admit the existence of a spiritual world 
surrounding the natural world, and you have the easiest 
sort of solution of the whole matter.” 

“But I won’t.” 

“ But the Buddhists do.” 

“ I know it.” 

“ They do wonderful things. Doctor.” 

“ I admit it.” 

“Many of our modern Spiritualists do similar things.” 

“I know that.” 

“ As I said before, history teems with the relations of 
such occurences. You cannot name a nation where there 
are not individuals who claim free intercourse with the 
spirits of the dead.” 

“True again, but their claims are yet to be proved.” 

“ I don’t know,” said Maurice dreamily. “ I have puz- 
zled my brains over the problem until I can think no 
more. Like you, Philpot, I demand proof; but this much 
I will say: I have reached the firm conclusion that there 
exist laws in nature, call them physical, or call them spirit- 
ual, understood only by certain persons, or exercised with- 


MIRRIKH. 


75 


out being fully comprehended by ignorant persons, that do 
produce phenomena, the true nature of which we are as yet 
wholly unable to comprehend.’^ 

“ And by these laws you would explain the levitations of 
Mirrikh?” I yawned, for I was growing entirely sick of this 
lengthy discussion.” 

‘‘ I see no other way of explaining them.” 

‘‘ If we could only read this, we might get some light up- 
on the subject,” said the Doctor. 

He thrust his hand into his coat pocket as he spoke, and 
pulled out the book which he had taken from Mr. Mirrikh’s 
bag. 

I was amazed — indignant. 

“ What? You can’t have had the impudence to approp- 
riate that book after all I said? ” I angrily cried. 

“There, there, Wylde, don’t lose your temper again! I 
did keep it. I was curious to study it. I ” 

“Give it to me!” I exclaimed, holding out my hand. 
“ Until it is delivered to its owner, it is my property. Give 
it to me at once.” 

“ Take it then, since you are going to be so savage about 
it,” he replied sulkily; and he just tossed the book across 
the fire to my side. I tried to catch it, but failing, it went 
sprawling open upon the floor. Indeed, it had partly open- 
ed before he threw it, for I saw an envelope drop from 
between the leaves at Philpot’s feet. When I picked the book 
up, he had already possessed himself of the envelope, and 
with the idea of stirring me still further, no doubt, coolly 
opened it, and now I saw him draw out a letter and hold it 
close to the fire’s light. 

“ What is that? ” asked Maurice. Philpot, who was 
glancing at the contents of the letter, did not immediately 
reply. 

“ Give it to me! ” I cried. “ It came out of the book.” 

“ So it did. Astonishing! ” 

“ What’s astonishing?” asked Maurice. 

“ His impudence,” said I. “ Mr. Philpot, I demand that 
letter.” 

“Shut up, George! ” cried Maurice. “Read it. Doctor; 
if it throws the least light upon the mystery of Mirrikh, 
read it by all means.” 

“ On the contrary, my dear fellow, it only increases it. 
Wylde will you behave yourself? ” 


76 


MIRRIKH. 


He pushed me aside when I reached over and attempted 
to possess myself of the letter, and did it with an ugly look 
in his eyes which warned me it was time to desist. Besides 
Maurice was against me, and I drew back sulkily to my own 
side of the fire and listened while Philpot read the follow- 
ing:— 

^^Dear Friend: — I greet you. Business of an important 
nature has kept me from fulfilling my promise to visit you 
this month. I have about completed my observations on 
the manners and social customs of China and Farther India, 
and now propose to visit that ancient shrine of the illumin- 
ati, Angkor, after which I shall probably return to Mars by 
way of Thibet. If you have any communication which you 
may desire to forward to the brethern in that planet, it 
would be well for you to embrace this opportunity, for there 
is no telling when another may occur. Prepare whatever 
may suggest itself, and I will drop in on you sometime be- 
fore I depart for Thibet, but cannot at the present writing 
say just when. Would that you could be persuaded to ac- 
company me, but I presume it would be quite useless to 
urge you further. 

Yours, ever in the faith, 

Mirrikh. 

Written at Panompin. 

Mr. Radma Gungeet, Benares. 

There, Wylde, is your letter; you may have it now if 
you want it so bad. Since it is written in Hindustanee, it is 
not likely that I shall be contradicted by you as to the 
nature of its contents. Singular name that. Now I come 
to think of it, in Hindustanee, it means the planet Mars.” 

As the Doctor spoke, he tossed the sheet across the fire, 
just as the thunder, which for some time had been silent, 
came crashing about the tower with a rattle and roar which 
sent us all three to our feet. 


If 


CHAPTER VIIL 

A MAN FROM ANOTHER WORLD, 

‘‘Great Heavens! What a crash!” cried Philpot, as he 
strode to the doorway to adjust the shawl, one end of which 
had been torn from its fastenings by the whirl of the wind.. 
“ Positively I thought this old rookery was coming down 
about our ears. There it goes again! By Jove! that was a 
blinder — look out boys, it’s coming again!” 

It came. In an instant, we heard the echoing roll of 
that stupendous conflict in progress among the clouds. 

I threw more wood on the fire, but did not speak — I could 
not. This last had struck me dumb. 

Not the thunder of course; I do not refer to that! It was 
the letter. Could it by any possibility be that — but no. It 
was too absurd. 

Meanwhile Maurice had seated himself again and Philpot 
returned to the fire. 

“ It is a good thing I found it,” he said. “ It proves con- 
clusively that the fellow is only a paltry trickster after all. 
No doubt the letter was written for your express benefit 
Wylde. He has some object in view in crossing your path 
as he does, you may rest assured.” 

“ Have you formed so low an estimate of my intelligence 
Doctor, that you think for an instant I could believe 
such a claim as that letter puts forth? ” 

“ No — oh, no! I was only joking.” 

“ How dumb you are! Can’t you see that the letter is a 
cipher — that the allusions to Mars mean something alto- 
gether different — that ” 

“ Do you believe that George?” interposed Maurice. 

“ I do indeed.” 

“ Then I don’t.” 

“What!” cried the Doctor. “ De Veber, for gracious 
sake don’t let your love of the occult carry you too far!” 

“ I did not say I believed what the letter hints at. I say 
it is not a cipher. I stick to it. No man would write a 


MIRRIKH. 


78 

cipher that way. His eagerness to recover the letter proves 
that it was nothing of the sort.” 

“And I,” persisted Philpot, “believe that Wylde is right, 
and has hit the true solution. A journey to Mars! Transmi- 
gration to another planet! By Jove! that beats all the Budd- 
histic claims which have come to my knowledge yet. 
When I was a lad I used to dream of such a possibility, 
but ” 

“ But it is a startling conclusion to our acquaintance with 
Mr. Mirrikh,” interrupted Maurice. “ If he can levitate 
from one tower of the Nagkon Wat to the other, why not 
from one planet to another?” 

“Gad!” cried the Doctor suddenly slapping his knee. “I 
have it!” 

“ What is it?” I exclaimed, 

“ A thought — a remembrance — a curious coincidence all 
in one.” 

“ Out with it. Doctor,” said Maurice. 

“ Years ago I read a curious book written by an eighteenth 
century religious lunatic — you may have heard of him — 
Emmanuel Swedenborg, the Swedish seer.” 

“I have heard of him, but never read any of his works. A 
sort of Spiritualist on a mild scale was he not?” 

“ Something that way. I have read but little of him my- 
self, but I recollect this particular book because of the 
sublime impudence of its claim.” 

“Which was?” 

“ That he had visited several of the planets in the spirit — 
among the rest the planet Mars.” 

“Well?“ 

“Oh, I’m coming to it. Among other things he states 
that a portion of the inhabitants of Mars have faces which 
are black below and white above.” 

“ My stars! You don’t mean it!” cried Maurice. 

“ He does. He says just that. Now I see it all. Mirrikh 
is a fraud. He has been playing upon the credulity of the 
Benares Buddhists. His face is painted to help bear out 
his claim.” 

“It must be so,” I cried. “Doctor you have hit it.” 

“ I’m sure of it !” said Philpot. “ Would that he were here 
now. ^ I could make the charge to his face. Oh, depend 
upon it, he is a shrewd rascal hark ! What is that ! ” 

We listened. 


MIRRIKH. 


79 


Above the howl of the storm I could distinctly hear 
strange sounds proceeding apparently from that part of the 
tower which lay above us. Musical sounds — a voice singing, 
or rather chanting a strain so weird and dismal that it made 
my very blood run cold. 

“ Mirrikh, by all that’s holy ! ” ejaculated the Doctor. 

The fakir has kept his word ! He said that we should 
have a visit from him to-night.” 

Listen ! listen ! ” breathed Maurice, raising his hand. 
‘‘ Could anything be grander, more solemn, more entirely in 
harmony with our strange surroundings ? ” 

We listened breathlessly ; even Philpot seemed to experi- 
ence the influence of that wild, mournful strain which 
echoed down from the obscurity above us, reminding me 
most forcibly of the opening measures of the “ Wolfschliicht ” 
in Der Freischiitz, being a series of prolonged shakes in a 
minor key, with an occasional break into melody, followed 
by an instant return to the shake again. 

Suddenly this ceased and a moment of stillness fol- 
lowed, and then began a movement of a wholly different 
sort. 

^‘Gad! ” broke in the Doctor; ‘‘the top of the tower must 
be filled with people ! No one voice could produce such 
sounds as those.” 

“Hark! Hark!” whispered Maurice. “Was anything 
ever so heavenly, so divine! ” 

Now I am not much of a musician. I perform on no in- 
strument nor do I sing, but I love music and in my time 
have attended operas and philharmonics sufficient to know 
something of what is what, and I can truthfully affirm that 
no more remarkable performance was ever heard by the ears 
of mortal man. 

Beginning in low, sweet, sympathetic strains, which re- 
reminded me of the opening of the Larghetto in the Second 
Symphony, it rose by a gentle crescendo until it seemed to 
fill the whole of that gloomy interior, then falling again into 
melody which stirred the inmost depths of my soul. 

Now the motive became more strident, and rising above 
the thunder which was again cracking outside, there came a 
succession of sounds harmonizing with the fury of the ele- 
ments to a degree fairly enchanting. It was not one voice, 
but many; it could not have been produced otherwise, I 
was reflecting, when suddenly the chorus ceased, and but one 


8o 


MIRRIKH. 


voice was heard, and that deep and sonorous, rising and falling 
until at length it appeared to die away in the distance, and 
profound stillness pervaded the interior of the tower once 
more. 

For several seconds no one spoke. 

‘‘Wonderful !” breathed Maurice at last. “Never in all 
my life have I listened to music so heavenly. George, what 
can it mean? 

“ I propose to find out what it means,” cried the Doctor, 
seizing a burning brand from the fire. “ Follow me, gentle- 
men. We shall soon know.” 

He moved towards the stone staircase which communi- 
cated with the upper portion of the tower. What the sen- 
sations of my friend De Veber may have been I cannot say, 
but I know mine, as we followed, were those of deepest awe. 

As we ascended, the silence remained unbroken. Presently 
we reached the floor above, the Doctor flashed his torch 
about, but we could discern no one. The circular chamber 
in which we found ourselves was untenanted; the rain was 
beating in through the solitary window with wild fury and I 
found myself wondering where all the water went to and why 
it had not long ago come pouring, down about our heads. 

“No one here!” breathed Philpot, “We must try the 
next floor above.” 

We pushed on, but we might as well have spared our- 
selves the effort. There was no one to be found on that 
floor nor on the next, nor the next still. 

Here the stairs came to an end. Nothing but a dilapi- 
dated wooden ladder remained, communicating with a small 
square opening like a scuttle, only there was no cover. 
Resolved to leave no portion of the tower unexplored, the 
Doctor even ascended to the opening, reporting nothing but 
the darkened vault of the heavens beyond. 

We could go no further now, and just then a gust of 
wind extinguished the torch which Philpot had given 
Maurice to hold. A bat with flapping wings, disturbed by 
our intrusion, flew past my face, startling me more than I 
would have cared to own; just then the Doctor came hurry- 
ing down the ladder with an imprecation upon our want of 
success. 

“By Jove! boys, this is most mysterious! ” he exclaimed. 
“ There’s no one m the tower but ourselves — that’s just as 
sure as fate.” 


MIRRIKH. 


8l 


‘‘I knew it! I answered. ^‘I’m going down.'" 

Stay! We will light up first. I have matches.” 

You can’t do it in this draught,” said Maurice? I’m 
going back. I’ve had enough of it up here.” 

The attempt to light the brand proved futile. Without 
waiting to see the result, I had already started. The shad- 
ows oppressed me. I had had quite enough of them and 
was anxious to get back to our retreat on the ground floor. 

Last to ascend, I was first on the stairs going back. My 
mental state spurred me on, and I reached the top of the 
last flight before Maurice and the Doctor had started on the 
one above. 

Now, as I hurried down, my eyes naturally fixed them- 
selves upon the fire, and I perceived that a man stood be- 
side it with his back turned toward me, warming his hands 
by the blaze. 

Instantly that same cold sensation came upon me, and in 
the same moment I saw that the man was Mirrikh. The 
next — I will swear that I never removed my eyes from 
him — and I perceived that the spot which he had occupied 
before the fire was vacant — Never pausing even to wonder, 
I dashed on, but when I reached the fire, he was no longer 
there. 

I was glad of it. I had no wish to see him. Past being 
amazed at any phenomena which might present itself in 
connection with this man, I never even looked behind the 
statue to see if he was in hiding, never stopped to consider 
whether I had been the victim of an illusion or had actually 
seen him. It seemed useless to disturb myself about this 
mysterious person any longer, so I just shouted to my com- 
panions and bade them make haste, telling what I had seen 
when they reached my side. 

Maurice said nothing, but Philpot was entirely incredu- 
lous. He took another brand from the fire and passed be- 
hind the big stone Buddha, calling out that there was no 
one concealed there. In no other part of the enclosure 
could a man have successfully hidden, so we found our- 
selves just where we started out. 

It won’t wash, Wylde,” said the Doctor, coarsely. 
“ You didn’t see him.” 

But I did, though.” 

‘‘ An optical illusion. You were scared, puzzled.; think- 
ing of Mirrikh is what brought it about.” 


82 


MIRRIKH 


And you — did you hear that music, or was it an aural 
illusion?” I retorted. 

Gad! But we all heard that.” 

‘^Account for it.” 

‘‘I can’t!” 

Then in heaven’s name don’t talk to me of optical 
illusions, when — ” The words fairly froze upon my lips. I 
stood staring at the shawl which Maurice had hung before 
the door, a prey to sensations which simply beggar descrip- 
tion. Maurice’s back was turned, and so was the Doctor’s, 
thus they saw nothing, and, so far as the latter was concern- 
ed, it was just as well. But I saw a head come through 
that shawl — Mirrikh’s head, with the face uncovered — I 
swear I saw it — it is useless for me to attempt to unper- 
suade myself, though I have tried it again and again. 

Not through any rent or opening in the shawl. Oh, no! 
Not that! It seemed to pass directly through the fabric 
itself as if the cohesive attraction of each particle were for 
the instant destroyed, not assuming its full form until at 
least three seconds had elapsed. First I saw the forehead, 
the parti-colored face and the hair form on the inside 
of the shawl. Then the eyes fitted themselves below the 
brow, and the nose and mouth appeared, last coming that 
black and beardless chin, and then I beheld the entire 
head in perfect outline floating in the air. 

Dumb with amazement I neither moved nor spoke. 

Now I saw the shadowy outline of a body beneath the 
head, and suddenly a detached hand appeared, then the 
other hand, then the legs, and then 

‘‘What’s the matter, George! What is it , old fellow? 
For heaven sake speak to me,” I could hear Maurice say- 
ing. 

I had fainted! 

I lay upon the stone floor beside the fire with Maurice 
bending over me on one side and Philpot on the other. 
They were chafing my hands, Maurice’s face expressing the 
deepest concern. 

I tried to answer — tried to pull myself together, and I 
did it — did it in spite of another shock, for, raising my eyes 
I saw Mr. Mirrikh standing near the fire fumbling in a 
pocket medicine case. Mirrikh in full form and not 
chopped up like a Chinese puzzle. It was the man I had 
met at Panompin; the man I had seen on the tower of the 


MIRRIKH. 


83 


Nagkon Wat; the man who had saved the Doctor from the 
fury of the tiger; Mirrikh in full flesh, as tangible and 
material as Philpot or Maurice; and when from his face I 
turned my eyes toward the shawl, there it hung before the 
door swaying with the wind, not a rent in it — not even the 
pins by which the Doctor had fastened it to the wood-work 
disturbed. 

^‘George! George!’' called Maurice. Speak! Don’t 
look that way if you have the least consideration for my 

feelings. Old fellow, all this has been too much ” 

It’s all right,” I interrupted. ‘‘Nothing ails me. Let 
me get up, will you? I shall be right in a moment.” 

“ Nothing ails you? What do you mean then by frighten- 
ing us to death, tumbling over into the fire? ” Philpot cried. 
But I never heeded him. I sprang up just in time to meet 
the eyes of that wonderful man. 

“Mr. Wylde! I am very sorry. I am afraid my abrupt 
entrance startled you,” he said gently. “You have had a 
hard day of it; and the storm has affected your nerves. 
Try a few drops of this mixture. It will put you right in a 
moment. You need not be afraid of it — it is a simple 
remedy prepared by myself.” 

“ I don’t want any of it,” I answered almost roughly. 
“ Maurice, your brandy flask.” 

I drank before attempting to speak again. Not for 
worlds would I have tasted the contents of that bottle then. 

“ How came he here?” I whispered to my friend. 

“ Positively I don’t know, George. I saw you fall and 
sprang to catch you. When I looked up, there he was.” 

I shuddered and said no more. Just then my eyes dis- 
covered another mystery. Mr. Mirrikh wore the same clothing 
as usual, and every stitch was as dry as the traditional bone! 

Philpot, however, was in no mood for silence. I could 
see by the way his eyes snapped that he was all ready for 
the fray. 

“ Probably it was your sudden appearance among us, 
sir, that startled Mr. Wylde,” he began — we were standing, 
Maurice and I, on one side of the fire, and they two on the 
other — “ positively you startled even me.” 

“For which I am very sorry. If Mr. Wylde will only 
consent to take a few drops ” 

“ Which he wont. Look here, sir, where did you come 
from? ” 


84 


MIRRIKH. 


*‘From the forest,’* he replied with singular mildness. 

Surely you have not forgotten your encounter with the 
tiger so soon? ” 

Were you not here a moment ago? ” cried the Doctor, 
ignoring the allusion. 

“ Did you see me here, sir? ” 

“ No sir, but Wylde did.” 

I was here. I stepped out for a moment; now I am 
here again.” 

Faith, I see you are! Would you be obliging enough to 
inform me how you managed to escape a wetting? ” 

‘‘By a very simple process, sir.” 

“Name it.” 

“ When it began to rain I went inside.” 

“What!” 

“ Did you fail to catch my words?” 

“ I failed to catch their significance.” 

“ Really, then I am at a loss to know how I can explain 
myself more fully.” 

“ Do you mean to tell us that you have been in this tower 
ever since it began to rain? ” 

“ I came here before the rain began.” 

“ And where, pray, have you been since? ” 

“ In one of the chambers above. I answer your questions, 
sir, simply from politeness. I deny your right to interrogate 
me; but go on to your heart’s content.” 

“I propose to,” replied the Doctor, coolly. “You say 
you have been up stairs all the time we have been down 
stairs. May I inquire if it was you who favored us with an 
exhibition more or less musical, a few moments ago?” 

“ I was singing — yes, sir.” 

“ Alone?” 

“ If you had come up you would have found no one with me.” 

“We did go up and we could not find even you.” 

“For an excellent reason, sir. When you came up, I 
was no longer there.” 

“Where were you? ’* 

“Here.” 

“ Will you have the kindness to inform me by what 
means you got here? ” 

“ No.” 

“ That settles it,” cried the Doctor, roughly. “ I knew 
you couldn’t explain. I’ve nothing further to say.” 


MIRRIKH. 85 

He turned his back abruptly upon Mr. Mirrikh, seated 
himself by the fire and began to smoke. 

He was angry — very angry. In his supreme conceit he 
had flattered himself that he could show my Panompin 
friend in the light of a charlatan after the first question or 
two. In this he had lamentably failed. 

Meanwhile Maurice, who had never uttered a word, 
seated himself again, and now pulled me down beside him; 
Mr. Mirrikh, however, did not sit down, but just stood 
there with his hands spread out to catch the warmth, 
gazing into the fire meditatively. Twice, in the silent 
moments which followed, I saw him look at Maurice 
curiously, and once he looked at me. 

By this time my equanimity was pretty well restored and I 
can assure you that I felt quite ashamed of what had oc- 
curred. I resolved to settle the mystery of this man 
once and for all, and I sat there gazing at him trying 
to assure myself against my reason, that his face was painted 
as Philpot had claimed, for reason following the dictates of 
two excellent eyes, told me that it was not. I could not seize 
him and try the effect of a wet rag upon his chin, though I 
own that I was itching to do that very thing. 

Now Maurice breaks the silence. Just as determined as 
Philpot, his diplomacy is greater, or his personal sphere more 
persuasive. He accomplishes with one question what the 
Doctor fails to accomplish with a dozen. 

You said the other morning that you sometimes smoked,” 
he remarked, pleasantly. Won’t you join us now?” 

“ Thank you. I have no objection.” 

He chose a spot near me and sat down, accepting the 
proffered cheroot and lighting it by the blowing coals. 

You will pardon our friend, I know,” said Maurice; 
“ but one naturally feels a desire to account for the singular 
experiences we have had in this tower to-night. We are 
storm bound, Mr. Mirrikh, and, with the possible exception 
of yourself, all of us have got to stay here till morning. You 
cannot wonder at our curiosity. Why not gratify it? 
Wylde is your friend, I would like to be, and as for Mr. 
Philpot ” 

“Oh, count me in,” blurted out the Doctor, “I have 
not forgotten that Mr. Mirrikh saved my life.” 

“ Gentlemen,” he said, after puffing meditatively for a 
moment, “ I have nothing but the friendliest feelings toward 


86 


MIRR'IKH., 


you, nor in fact toward any one else. All God’s creatures 
are my friends, and in a fashion I try to love them all; 
for by loving his creatures I adore the Almighty himself. 
White or black, red or yellow, it makes no difference; men 
are men, intelligence is intelligence. What is it to me that 
you are representatives of a race widely different from my 
own?” 

“ Your views are most broad and harmonize with mine 
exactly,” replied Maurice; ^‘but can you wonder at our 

curiosity ” 

I do not wonder at it.” 

“ Then gratify it.” 

‘‘ That would be impossible.” 

‘‘Why so?” 

“For an excellent reason. The intelligence of neither 
one of you has been cultivated to the point of understand- 
ing any explanation I could make.” 

“ I beg to differ with you!” cried Philpot. “Try us and 
see. If you were up stairs how the devil did you get down 
stairs without running against us? If you were alone up 
there, how happens it that we hear ” 

“ Pardon me. You heard me singing.” 

“ How many voices do you usually keep about you? I’ll 
swear I heard at least six at once.” 

“ As I was saying, Mr. De Veber,” continued Mirrikh, 
ignoring the question; “it is useless for me to attempt to 
explain what your minds — and I say it without the slight- 
est desire to cast reflection — are incapable of comprehend- 
ing. You ask me how I passed down from the top of the 
tower to the bottom without meeting you on the stairs ” 

“ I beg your pardon, I didn’t ask it,” said Maurice; “ but 
I’d like to.” 

“ And I would like to answer but I cannot, further than 
to say that in doing what I did — and I don’t deny that I did 
it — I simply put into action a force as purely natural as the 
force of gravitation. Further than this I do not care 
to go.” 

“Prove the existence of such a force by exerting it now,” 
I said. “ By your strange conduct I have been placed in a 
most ambiguous position. I’m entitled to some consideration 
on that account if for no other reason.” 

“ Mr. Wylde! Is it so? I deeply regret it,” he exclaimed, 
in a tone of concern. “ Still I am no charlatan. I cannot 


MIRRIKH. 87 

exhibit my powers for the asking. Why, what is this? Can 
it be possible! My book!” 

There it lay open upon the floor just where I had thrown 
it. I had forgotten its existence, but now as he leaned 
back and picked it up I could do no less than make some 
explanation. 

The attempt was a lame one I fear, but he listened in 
polite silence. I did not tell him who opened the bag, but 
he seemed to understand instinctively that it was not I. 

Just as I ceased speaking, the thunder began crashing 
again. I remember that there was a particularly fearful 
clap when he opened the book, and running the pages over 
hastily began to read. 

What he read — and he began it without the slightest 
explanation — was the report of a committee appointed by a 
theosophic society in England to examine into the claims of 
a noted Spiritualist who professed to have been bodily 
levitated through an open, third story window; not once, 
but frequently, with the power to control his levitations to 
a certain extent, although admitting ignorance as to how he 
was taken, where he went, or by what means he was 
brought back. The report of the committee was to the 
effect that they, on several occasions — always in the dark 
— did actually witness the levitation of this individual. 
The names signed were those of a clergyman, a noted bar- 
rister and a baronet, who to his other distinctions was able 
to add the M. P. Altogether it was just about the most 
remarkable reading I ever listened to. If I chose I could 
furnish names and dates, but as I propose to confine my- 
self strictly to the matters which came under my own 
observation, I forbear. 

^‘You have heard?” he said quietly, as he concluded. 

In your own sober England, Mr. Philpot, precisely what 
I have done on several occasions with which you may be 
more or less acquainted, has been done. Need I say more?” 

“ It would be a trifle more satisfactory if you would,” 
returned the Doctor seriously. “ I have read of this business 
before. That medium has since been exposed as a fraud.” 

“ Was the secret of his levitation exposed? ” 

^‘No. I understand not.” 

Simply the man was caught cheating at some other trick ?” 

“ So far as I have heard that is all. He pretended to 
materialize a spirit, which proved to be himself.” 


88 


MIRRIKH. 


‘‘You see now how wise I am. It would never do for 
me to claim too much, or I should run the risk of being 
classed in the same category as this Englishman. I tell 
you I possess no supernatural powers. What I did was done 
on purely scientific principles. But it is quite useless for 
me to attempt to explain.” 

He raised the book by the cover and shook it slightly. 

Of course I knew what he was seeking for. I was pre- 
pared, too. I had the letter in my hand, having taken it 
out of my pocket unobserved, for he was not looking at 
me, and I now reached over and laid it upon his lap. 

“ There is your letter, Mr. Mirrikh,” I began. “ I am 
sorry it has been opened, but ” 

“ Look here! ” cried the Doctor; “ there’s no use mincing 
matters. I opened that letter, Mr. Mirrikh, and I did it in 
opposition to Wylde’s particular request.” 

For a moment there was a dead silence. 

To my intense relief, however, Mr. Mirrikh seemed in no 
way disturbed. 

He took up the envelope, removed the letter and hastily 
perused it. Then restoring it to the envelope again he 
thrust it into his pocket, and for a moment just sat there 
blowing the smoke from his mouth in rings. Presently he 
looked up with a half sarcastic smile. 

“ You have all read this letter, gentlemen, I presume? ” 

“ I read it aloud,” replied the Doctor. 

“ Precisely. That amounts to the same thing. May I 
ask you what you think of its contents?” 

He was asking too much. Even the Doctor’s impudence 
was not equal to repeating the remarks he had previously made 

“ None of you speak,” he continued; “ so I see that I 
must manage this business myself. If I chose I could 
easily avoid the issue by leaving you — Mr. Wylde knows 
how easily — but I shall not do this. I have long been of 
the opinion that the day is at hand when many matters 
understood only by a narrow circle of Oriental adepts, 
should be given to the world at large. Possibly this is my 
mission; I have for some time suspected it. Possibly my 
meeting with Mr. Wylde at Panompin was but the prelimin- 
ary step toward the fulfilment of this mission; at all events 
I shall permit myself so to consider it, and ” 

“ And what? ” exclaimed Maurice, eagerly. Philpot had 
the grace to hold his tongue. 


MIRRIKH. 89 

‘‘ And ask you to repeat the question which you put to 
me on the tower of the Nagkon Wat, Mr. De Veber.” 

‘‘What question? I put several — you answered none.” 

“ I will answer any question you may now ask, freely.” 

He arose and stood before us with a graceful dignity that 
impressed us all. 

“ Question me,” he repeated. “ I am ready.” 

“ Then in God’s name, tell us who you are and where you 
came from! ” blurted out the Doctor. 

He smiled, folding his arms as we had seen him do before. 

“ Gentlemen,” he said slowly, “ your curiosity shall be 
gratified. I am a man from the planet Mars! ” 


BOOK II. 

THE TRANSMIGRATION OF A SOUL 


CHAPTER IX. 

THREE TRAVELERS IN THIBET. 

** Shut the door! ” 

No wonder the Doctor said it. 

The man who can leave the door open when the ther- 
mometer stands at lo degrees Fah. below zero, is lacking in 
consideration for his fellow man, to say the least. 

^‘Shut the door!” roared the Doctor, a second time. 

Shut the door! ” 

‘‘Maurice! Maurice! Rouse yourself old man!” I called, 
adding my voice to that of the Rev. Miles Philpot, which 
needed no addition, being a host in itself. 

Maurice De Veber gave a start; turning, he stared at me 
for a second in a dazed fashion which had become common 
with him of late, and then, with a sudden movement for- 
ward, the very energy of which showed that he had at last 
reached a realization of the fact that the Doctor and I 
were rapidly freezing, slammed the door of the inn at Zhad- 
uan. 

“Fm sure I beg your pardon,” he exclaimed, turning 
toward the k’ang, upon which the Rev. Miles Philpot lay 
sprawled out in the most undignified fashion, when you 
come to consider his cloth. I sat beside him with my legs 
doubled under me like a Turk or a tailor, trying to keep 
from freezing above while being slowly toasted below. 

“ It’s all very well to beg a fellow’s pardon after you’ve 
let in several hundred thousand litres of cold air, French 
measure,” grumbled the Doctor; “what I would like to 
know is why you opened the door at all? ” 

Maurice laughed; then out came the inevitable pipe — that 


MIRRIKH. 


91 


dear old bit of blackened briar wood which I remember so 
well. 

“ Astronomical observations,” he replied lightly; “never 
in all my life have I seen such a wonderful display. Orion 
is glorious, Sirius shines with a brilliancy positively amazing, 
and as for the Pleiades ” 

“ Oh, hang the Pleiades!” broke in the Doctor. “ I under- 
stand it now — you were looking at Mars.” 

“And fell into one of your dreamy fits,” I added; “in 
spite of the risk you ran of supplying pneumonia for three.” 

“You’ve hit it, George! You’ve hit it. Keep it up. I 
deserve it all.” 

“ Keep up nothing,” grumbled the Doctor. “ I wish that 
rascal. Ah Schow, would get back with the argols to start up 
this fire; we’ll be sure to see the last of it in twenty minutes 
if he don’t.” 

“ One wouldn’t think so from the way the k’ang feels 
now,” laughed Maurice, jumping upon it, and sitting there 
with his feet dangling down while he lit the pipe. “ The 
temperature is quite Cambodian beneath and decidedly 
Thibetan above. What we need is equalization. How’s 
that. Doctor? Ain’t it about so? ” 

“ Upon my word,” grumbled the Doctor, “ we need so 
many things that I’ve given up thinking about them, and take 
everything as it comes. Most of all we need common sense 
enough to give up this whole crazy business and start back 
to Calcutta before it is too late.” 

“ Hark! What was that? ” I exclaimed suddenly. 

Outside the hut a shrill cry had sounded. 

It was the “sok! sok!” of the camel driver. A sound no 
one is likely to forget in a hurry who has had the ill-fortune 
to travel in Thibet. 

Maurice leaped off the k’ang and seized his rifle, which 
stood leaning against the unplastered wall of the inn. As 
for the Doctor, he displayed the effects of his American 
training by the quick motion his hand made toward his hip 
pocket. 

“ The fun begins, boys!” he exclaimed. “Some one is 
coming. I felt it in my bones that fate wouldn’t let us have 
a quiet night here by ourselves.” 

We were all three at the door in an instant, almost upset- 
ting ^ Ah Schow, our Chinese cook at the Nagkon Wat, who 
was in the act of entering with an armful of argols; dried 


92 


MIRRIKH. 


camel’s dung, the only fuel obtainable and that universally 
employed to heat the k’ang in Thibet. 

“Sok! Sok! Sok!” came the cry again, echoing back 
from the rocky walls of the mountain pass which lay below us. 

Ah Schow informed us that a caravan was coming up, 
and experience had taught us that Ah Schow, as a rule, 
when he made a definite and positive statement, was pretty 
apt to tell the truth. 

And while we stand there at the inn door waiting to prove 
the statement of our chef^ let me make a statement on my 
own account. 

We were in Thibet. 

We were three travellers journeying through an unknown 
land, bound on the craziest quest in which ever man 
engaged. 

If any one wishes to put me down as a lunatic after 
hearing what I have to tell, why I can only say that I would 
be the last to blame him. In fact, just about that time I 
was beginning to work around to the same opinion myself. 

Now you will not find Zhad-uan put down upon the maps 
of Thibet* still less will it pay to look for the deserted inn 
which we had taken possession of that night, never guessing 
that the town — it consisted of a lamasery and a dozen or 
two mud houses — was only five miles further on, just over 
the mountain, on the other slope. 

In truth there are no maps of Thibet of any value. If 
any one of the few travellers who has succeeded in penetrat- 
ing the country has given a reliable map to the world I 
never saw it; as for the ordinary ones in the atlas, no two 
agree, and I vouch for it that all are equally absurd. 

Nevertheless here we were in the land of the Grand 
Lama in spite of the lack of a map, and not a week’s journey 
distant from that most mysterious of cities, Lh’asa. 

Scores of travellers have tried it, each failing signally; few 
were ever heard of once they had crossed the Thibetan fron- 
tier. 

Would our fate be different from those who had gone 
before us into this mysterious land? 

God alone knew, on that night when we three stood at the 
inn door, listening to the cries of the camel drivers. For my 
part, although not an obstacle had thus far been put in our 
path by human hands, I had doubts, grave doubts, whether 
I should ever leave the land of the Tale Lama alive. 


MIRRIKH. 


93 


But how to explain our motives for this singular journey? 

I feel that it is a case where preliminary words and finely 
turned phrases would be wasted, and entire frankness will 
pay the best. 

Here it is then — make the most of it. 

I, George Wylde, my friend Maurice De Veber, late 
American Consul at Panompin, and the ubiquitous Philpot, 
were supposed to be on our way to the planet Mars! 

There! I have said it, and now I feel better. Laugh at 
us for idiots if you will; put me down as a monstrous falsifier; 
treat my statement in any way that best pleases you. I can 
only hold up my right hand and say solemnly: It is the 
truth!’' 

Of course it is scarcely necessary for me to add that my 
parti-colpred acquaintance, Mr. Mirrikh, was at the bottom 
of it. That goes without saying, I suppose. 

I will mention, however, that the beginning of our folly 
dates from that night when we found ourselves storm bound 
in the old Siamese tower; from the moment when that levi- 
tating individual gravely announced himself as a man from 
Mars. 

And the rest of his story? 

Reader, I dare not tell it; but I will mention that at this 
time I did not know it. It is, however, too utterly improb- 
able to excite belief, even in the mind of a full-fledged 19th 
Century Buddhist, who, if you were to claim to have been 
transported bodily from Benares to Boston in twenty seconds, 
would not doubt your statement in the least. 

Yet Mr. Mirrikh made his assertion with such quiet dig- 
nity, that while he spoke he almost carried me away with 
him; almost made me believe in a vast realm of disembodied 
spirits all about us, controlling our every action, our very 
thoughts. 

It is quite useless to talk to you Europeans about these 
things Wylde” — I remember distinctly the very intonations 
of his voice as he said it— ‘ quite useless, I assure you, for 
the reason that you look upon this world as the world of 
causes, while in reality it is only the world of effects, a 
mere shadowy reflection of the vast realm of the unseen.” 

“ But,” I answered, you must make us some explanation. 
Here you have boldly asserted something which to our 
minds seems an utter impossibility; that you are an inhabi- 
tant of another planet; not satisfied with this, you tell us that 


94 


MIRRIKH. 


you propose to return to the earth from whence you came, 
and then cap the climax by offering to take any one of us 
along.” 

We were still sitting together around the fire in the old 
stone tower when this conversation took place, for you may 
rest assured that after the astonishing statement made by 
Mr. Mirrikh with which the last chapter closed, we had no 
notion of letting him go until he had fully explained. 

But could we have held him if he had chosen to depart? 

If experience went for anything, most certainly we could 
not. I know now, as I knew then, that my friend Mirrikh 
could have left us instantly if he had so desired — left us in 
spite of all the bolts, bars or stone walls which we might 
have interposed. 

Few of my readers — if indeed I ever find any — will believe 
that this is the simple truth; and yet it is so; and what is 
more, few who have traveled through India observantly will 
question it. 

If a fakir can bring a dog down from a clear sky out of 
nothingness, or can climb a ladder held upright beneath the 
vault of heaven, and pulling it up after him, vanish ladder 
and all, why that which I claim for my man is but baby 
play. And these statements have been vouched for by un- 
questioned authorities. I have alluded to them before, but 
I bring them up again in order that, placed side by side with 
my claim for Mr. Mirrikh, I may have the right to demand 
at least equal consideration for both. 

I remember well just how he looked at me; remember the 
curious, far-away expression upon Maurice’s face, which in 
the light of after events, seemed almost prophetic. Never 
shall I forget the utter contempt with which the Rev. Phil- 
pot treated his claims. 

But nothing seemed to ruffle Mr. Mirrikh. In fact as I 
look back upon all our intercourse, I can now see that the 
only thing which ever did disturb him was the fear of dis- 
turbing others with the singularity of his face and the wild 
impossibility of his claims. His was the assured calmness 
and complete unity of purpose which we have been taught 
to look for in angels; and truth compels me to confess that 
when long in his presence I was as nothing; as an individual 
entity I seemed to have been annihilated; never until I 
knew this man had I been able to grasp the idea of the 
Buddhist Nirvana, where God is all and all is God. And 


MIRRIKH. 


95 


/ 

this is the true Nirvana, unrecognized even by the great 
majority of Buddhists who use the word. 

Friend Wylde,” he said, in answer to my demand; “ I 
am at as great a loss to know how to meet your mental 
condition as you are at a loss to meet mine; and yet with 
the exception of a few facts which are the property of my 
friends the Hindu adepts, there is not a secret I possess not 
freely yours to-night.” 

Here was the Doctor’s chance, and he lost no time in 
embracing it. 

‘‘ Look here, my friend, are we all three included in that 
deal?” he demanded. 

‘‘You are.” 

Mr. Mirrikh bowed with easy grace. 

“ And you will answer any question I may ask which does 
not concern the secrets of the adepts ?” 

“ I will.” 

“ I’m going to question you.” 

“You are welcome to do so.” 

“Ami? Wait! First, what do you use to paint your 
face with, and why do you paint it at all ?” 

Not by the least look or gesture did Mr. Mirrikh show 
himself ruffled. 

“Examine my face,” he said, in the calmest of tones. 

“ It is not necessary.” 

“ Pardon me, but it is necessary. I demand it.” 

“Humph! Can’t you see that I understand ?” 

“ Understand what ?” 

“ That some disease has colored your face. I thought it 
was painted and wanted to try you; but when you consent ” 

“ Stop! I demand that you examine my face before you 
ask another question.” 

The Doctor hesitated no longer. 

“ Your face is not artificially colored sir,” he said con- 
strainedly, after he had looked and felt to his heart’s content. 

“ What do you make out of it ?” 

“ I can make nothing out of it. It is a face built in 
opposition to any physiological law I know anything about. 
You have probably had some disease unknown outside of 
the East.” 

“ You are wrong. Had you ever been in the planet you 
call Mars, you would know better. Such faces, though not 
universal, are common there.” 


96 


MIRRIKH. 


\ 


“ Don’t talk ridiculous rubbish.” 

I beg your pardon — I am only stating a fact.”^ 

‘‘ I won’t listen to it,” snapped the Doctor, showing down- 
right temper. ‘‘You’re a good one — there’s no doubt on 
that score — you beat the deck! But when you try to stuff 
me with that Mars business, you go a shade too far.” 

“ As you did when you opened my letter and exposed my 
secret, sir. You have brought this on yourself.” 

“ By gracious, he has you there. Doctor! ” put in Maurice, 
rousing himself from the reverie into which he had fallen. 

“Not that I blame you,” continued Mr. Mirrikh; “under 
similar circumstances no doubt I would have done just as 
you did; but when you utterly discredit my statements ” 

“ Stuff and nonsense ! Do you expect a man of my intel- 
ligence to believe that a human body can be transported 
from one planet to another?” 

“ No, sir. I do not expect it.” 

“ Then why say it ?” 

“ I did not say it.” 

“ What am I to understand by that, when you most as- 
suredly did?” 

“ You may understand whatever you please. The fact 
remains that to transport a human body from the planet 
Mars to this earth is quite impossible, as you say.” 

“Yet you claim that on Mars it is customary to have faces 
like yours. You assert that you are a man from Mars.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ First you speak one way and then another.” 

“ I speak consistently, my friend. I was born in Mars, 
but this body which you see never left this earth, of course.” 

“Oh, pshaw! Now we are getting at it,” sneered Philpot. 
“ Some rubbishing re- incarnation nonsense. I thought as 
much.” 

Then it was that he said it — spoke the words which turned 
the whole tide of my life. 

“ It is nothing of the sort,” he began, fixing his eyes on 
Maurice in a way that I have seen Hindu snake charmers 
fix theirs upon the deadly cobra. “My claim is that while 
your soul is fast to your body, I can as easily take my soul 
out of my body as you can pull your hand out of a glove* or 
your foot out of a boot. When I told you that I was a man 
from Mars I stated the truth; when I told you that I was 
going to return to that planet and would be pleased to take 


MIRRIKH. 


97 


one or all three of you back with me, I spoke the truth again. 
Nothing could be plainer than I am speaking now; but you 
do not comprehend me, and it will be useless to attempt to 
make you understand.” 

Might I inquire if there is any way of getting back again 
to the earth ?” asked the Doctor, with a sneer. 

“Oh, yes. You can come back whenever you please.” 

“Do you go by balloon, or flying machine; or is it ” 

“ Stop! You cannot make me angry, so you may as well 
spare yourself the effort. My race have no such passion as 
anger. I will simply state that the means by which we go is 
one of the secrets I have promised to keep. If you decide 
to accompany me, the means will be furnished at the proper 
time.” 

“ Well, I don't know as I should mind a trip to Mars pro- 
vided I could get back again. I say, Maurice, how does it 
strike you? ” 

“ I am listening,” answered Maurice, quietly. 

“ How long would it take?” inquired the Doctor. 

“That,” replied Mr. Mirrikh, “would depend entirely 
upon how long you cared to remain in Mars; the passage 
through the realm of spirit cannot be measured by time; it 
would be no longer than a thought.” 

“Oh! We go by way of the spirit world, do we?” Well, 
my friend, I want you to understand that I, as a clergyman, 
with every opportunity to inform myself, utterly deny the 
existence of the so-called soul of man after death.” 

It was amusing to see Philpot draw himself up as he made 
this statement, but it was a positive study to see the expres- 
sion of pity which came over the face of my singular friend. 

“For me to hear you deny the existence of a spiritual 
world, is precisely as it would be for you to hear me deny 
the existence of that little island called Great Britain, on 
the ground that I had never seen it.” 

“Prove it! Prove your spirit world!” cried the Doctor, 
excitedly. “ I can argue all night on that point, and ” 

“ And you will have to argue with some one else then, for 
I have said my last word. Mr. De Veber, how is it with 
you? ” Will you return with me to Mars? ” 

Was Maurice hypnotized? 

I have often thought so, for he turned a face toward us 
so altered in its appearance, so radiant with enthusiasm, that 
I should scarcely have known it as his. 


98 


MIRRIKH. 


“Yes/' he answered; “I will go to Mars with you Mr. 
Mirrikh. When do we start? " 

“ Let him alone! Take your eyes off him!" I shouted, sud- 
denly springing to my feet as a peal of crashing thunder 
shook the old tower again. “You shan't hypnotize him! 
You shan’t " 

“ Sit down, Mr. Wylde! Sit down?" 

What was the matter? 

Everything seemed swimming before me, and yet all that 
Mr. Mirrikh had done was to extend his hand. 

Was I also being hypnotized? 

Then what of the Doctor? 

Why the Doctor just sat there as motionless and rigid as 
the big stone stone Buddha on the other side of the fire, and 
all because Mirrikh had waved the other hand at him. 

I sat down. More than that, I did not get up again, for 
in an instant I was nobody — nowhere — nothing — simply nil. 

The next thing I knew it was broad daylight and there 
was Maurice just coming through the open door of the tower 
from which the shawl had been taken down; there also was 
Doctor Philpot lying stretched upon the stone floor snoring 
lustily; there was the big stone Buddha with its broken 
nose, frowning down upon us; there was everything but 
Mirrikh, and he was not. 

Was it all a dream? 

Had he ever been there at all? If so, where did the reality 
end and the dream begin? 

Hello, George! So you have waked up at last, have you?” 
Maurice exclaimed, as his eyes rested upon me. “ Time, 
too, I must say. Your friend has been gone this hour. I 
walked down to the place where we met the tiger with him. 
Wonderful man! I’ve made a regular engagement with him 
George. I am to meet him at the Lamasery of Psamdagong, 
in Thibet, on the i8th of December. You are to go with 
me, and Doc shall go along too, if he wants to. I tell you, 
George, there never was such a glorious proposition made to 
mortal man. I shall be talked of all over the civilized 
world; I shall visit every court in Europe; and as for scien- 
tific men they will come round me in droves. I shall write 
a book about it, and " 

“Hold on! Hold on! What in the name of sense are 
you talking about? " I shouted. 

Then came the answer, just as I had expected. 


MIRRIKU. 


99 


“ Talking about? Why you must know, George. lam 
talking about going with your friend Mirrikh back to Mars.’' 

“ Hypnotized, hopelessly hypnotized!” I groaned. ‘‘Oh! 
Maurice!” 

Was it true? 

Had that amazing man from Panompin controlled Mau- 
rice De Veber’s will so completely as to make him believe 
that it was possible to take his soul out of his body, transport 
it to the planet Mars and bring it back again? 

Reader, he had! 

Not that he controlled mine or the Doctor’s, but poor 
Maurice he had hard and fast. 

I believe I could have killed Mr. Mirrikh that day, I felt 
so furious about it; but to kill your fox you must first find 
it, and I had never seen the man from that time till now. 

Nor had Maurice. Yet it seemed to make no difference. 

“ George, I shall give up my position and am going to 
Thibet,” he said to me that morning, after we had told the 
Doctor all. And he did it — strange as it may seem, he 
did it. 

“ You are going with me,” he kept on declaring. 

He need not have doubted that, if he were mad enough 
to go himself. 

Briefly, we went. I, because I loved Maurice, and the 
Rev. Miles Philpot went because he wanted to — because he 
had nowhere else to go. 

Maurice was mad. I believed it fully, and I blamed 
Mirrikh and his hypnotic powers for the whole affair. 

What had been told my friend after Mirrikh had hypno- 
tized me, Maurice would not divulge, nor did I ever fully 
ascertain. All I know is that Mirrikh gave him a letter of 
introduction to Mr. Radma Gungeet, at Benares, and from 
this individual Maurice received a document written in 
several sets of characters, which proved the very open sesame 
for us into that hitherto inpenetrable land — Thibet. 

All we had to do was to show this to' the local Buddhist 
priest, and lo! difficulties vanished like magic. 

Now it was quite useless to attempt to turn Maurice a 
hair’s breadth. 

Whatever was said to him, it had transformed Maurice 
De Veber into another individual. 

For myself I had nobody but Maurice now, and I would 
have died sooner than desert him. As for the Rev. Miles 


lOO 


MIRRIKH. 


Philpot, he would have travelled to Siberia with us so long 
as the brandy and tobacco held out. 

Thus we found ourselves at the inn near Zhad-uan, on the 
northern slope of the Himalayas, a spot on God’s footstool 
where never Caucasian, certainly never American, trod 
before. 

There we were, three travelers in Thibet. We had 
taken possession of the inn and hoped to keep it 

Fancy then our disappointment, when coming up the 
rocky ascent under the light of those glittering stars, I beheld 
a caravan, consisting of three camels and their riders, to- 
gether with a sort of palanquin, borne on the shoulders of 
four men. 

‘‘By Jove! its coming here!” groaned the Doctor. “We 
shall have to share the k’ang with all that crowd.” 

“ Dey f’lom Lh’asa!” exclaimed Ah Schow, who had flung 
down the argols and was standing at our side. “ Me tink 
dey come f’lom Trashilunpo too.” 

“ How do you tell, Ah Schow?” asked Maurice. 

“ Dat bed come f’lom Calcutta, boss. Me know!” 

Now this same Ah Schow was a wonderful man in his 
way, I want you to understand. He had lived in Lh’asa, 
he told us; at all events we were amazed when we 
learned that to his other accomplishments the fellow 
added a knowledge of the Thibetan tongue, which seemed 
to bear out his claim. He was with us for many weeks and 
through many trials. The only objection I ever found to 
him was that having once run a wash house on Stockton 
street, San Francisco, he would call whichever one of us he 
was addressing, “ boss.” 

Meanwhile the caravan was steadily approaching and the 
shrill “sok! sok!” of the camel drivers sounded as if spoken 
at our very feet, the atmosphere was so wonderfully clear. 

The camels came first, loaded with boxes and bales hung 
about their ungainly hips until it was difficult to tell where 
the camel ended and the luggage began. Then followed the 
palanquin and in the rear we could just catch a glimpse of 
several men mounted on mules coming up the pass. 

We could not see the faces of the riders, however, and 
the light was too uncertain to enable us to tell by their 
costumes whether they were Thibetans, or Chinese traders 
from Bootan or Napaul. 

To us they looked like so many sheep walking on their 


MIRRIKH. 


lOI 


hind legs, which is not at all strange when you come to con- 
sider that they all wore huge sheepskin coats and caps with 
the wool turned out. 

‘‘Come! come! We must attend to the fire!” cried 
Maurice suddenly. “ Poor wretches! They will be fairly 
frozen by the time they get here. Hurry, Ah Schow, and 
put more argols under the k’ang.” 

Now the k’ang in a Thibetan or Tartar inn, is of such 
1 uge import that I must stop to tell what it is like. 

inns, in the Thibetan mountains, let it be understood, are 
for the most part mere shelters, maintained for the accomo- 
dation of travellers, who are expected to provide for them- 
selves. Indeed the traveller may consider it luck even to 
find a shelter; he must expect nothing else, or certain 
disappointment awaits him. Does he want the tsamba, or 
barley meal, which forms the staple of diet all over these 
regions? If he does, and he has failed to provide himself 
with it beforehand, then he will be pretty apt to fare badly, 
for money here goes for nothing. Even if the inn is in 
charge of the family whose business it is to keep it clean, 
they will have nothing to sell, but rather will try to buy 
from you. 

Tsamba, vermicelli, or rice, is the kind of diet to which 
your Thibetan traveller has to accustom himself. He must 
take his water cask with him; also a copper kettle, a bellows, 
a ladle, and a pillow, if he wants one; besides these things 
there are the horses or camels to be looked out for. But 
all this is not telling about the k’ang. 

Picture to yourself four mud walls with the binding straw 
sticking out all over them in spots; thatch overhead, per- 
haps, or likely enough more mud, plastered over criss-crossed 
-sticks, with mud pounded hard for the floor. 

Such is the average inn interior, all except the k’ang, 
which is nothing more or less than a broad bench of planks 
built up against one wall, closed in front with the exception 
of a small opening to thrust the argols through, and numer- 
ous holes to let out the heat. Sometimes this opening is 
in the outside wall, and to build your fire inside you have 
to go out of doors. 

Usually the k’ang stands about four feet high and takes 
up three-quarters of the room. Sometimes mats are thrown 
over it, or bits of carpet, if you have them. In the larger 
inns, in more populous districts where there are “ all modern 


102 


MIRRIKH. 


improvements/' you will find in front of the k’ang huge 
caldrons for cooking soup, their legs bedded in the mud 
with places for fires underneath, so arranged that the smoke 
and surplus heat passes under the k’ang and thence by the 
smoke hole to the outer air. 

When the fire is built under the k’ang, the planks above 
are soon heated and will remain reasonably warm for quite 
a length of time. Here you sit by day and sleep by night, 
and if you can accustom yourself to roasting on one side 
and freezing on the other, you will soon learn, as we did, to 
make yourself very comfortable on the k’ang. 

Bent upon his benevolent intentions, Maurice now lent 
his assistance to Ah Schow and the argols were soon gath- 
ered up and thrown under the k’ang. Meanwhile I had 
shut the door and the Doctor returned to his comfortable 
position in the warmest corner. 

“ May as well secure a seat while it’s possible,” he said. 

Just you wait till these people come up and then see how 
comfortable we’ll be? I tell you there’s no such thing as 
sleep to-night.” 

They were coming. The shouts of the camel drivers 
grew louder. Anxious to keep the place as warm as possible, 
we refrained from opening the door again, until the racket 
outside told us that the moment had arrived. 

‘‘Here they are!” cried Manrice. “ Let’s do the hospitable, 
George. We would expect it if we were in their place.” 

“ Keep the door shut whatever else you do!” roared the 
Doctor. “ As for me I don’t budge an inch for the biggest 
Lama in Thibet.” 

Before we could answer, the door was flung open and in 
walked one of the K’ambas, or “ red-capped men,” as the 
Chinese call the natives of eastern Thibet. 

He was short and thick set, dressed in a dirty sheepskin, 
cut a la robe de nuit^ very bunchy and reaching about to his 
knees, where it was met by high boot legs of red cloth with 
thick rawhide soles. He wore nothing on his head, nor did 
he seem to need it, for his long, tangled hair formed a jet 
black mat of amazing thickness, falling down over his 
shoulders and “banged” across the forehead, just above the 
eyes. 

“ Peace be with you, my brothers!” he exclaimed — Ah 
Schow was equal to the translation — “ we have brought 
a guest who will be sure not to crowd you off the k’ang.” 


MIRRIKH. 


103 


We bowed in as near Oriental fashion as we knew how. 
Maurice, through Ah Schow, assuring ‘*our elder brother,” 
that on the k’ang was room enough for all. 

Now, to our surprise, the fellow, instead of being followed 
up by his companions who were crowding about the open 
door, retreated, and presently we saw the covered litter, 
palanquin, or whatever you may please to call it, brought 
up. 

Meanwhile Maurice and I had gone out, and found our- 
selves facing a staring crowd of fierce looking fellows of 
which the man I have just described was a fair type. 

Evidently they were puzzled to make us out, in spite of 
the fact that we were dressed in the costume of the Thibetan 
lamas, wearing the long black cloaks, Chinese trousers and 
shoes; our appearance was correct except for our hair, which 
we had cut as short as possible without shaving, something 
we ought to have done to make the illusion complete. This 
I ought to have mentioned before, and that I have not done 
so is an oversight. Of course any one who has ever read a 
line about Thibet knows how utterly impossible it would be 
for us to gain admittance to the country in any other dress. 

Grouped behind their drivers were the camels, whose 
mournful cries had aroused our mules in the little stable 
back of the inn, and they were by no means slow to make 
their voices heard. Every camel, besides the tremendous 
load each carried, was hung with bells innumerable and 
these clanged and jangled with each movement, producing 
an effect truly Wagnerian; in fact between the bells and the 
ceaseless chatter of the drivers, even had we been perfect 
artists in Thibetan, it would have been quite impossible to 
have made ourselves heard. 

Find out who these people are and what they are going 
to do,” Maurice said to Ah Schow. If they’ve got some 
great man in that travelling house, find out who he is so that 
we may do the honors of the inn in proper shape.” 

This started Ah Schow off to mingle with the crowd, but 
before he returned with the desired information, the mystery 
had in part solved itself. 

Six long-haired men were crowding around the litter as 
soon as the bearers let it down. 

It was a simple affair — ^just a sort of hand barrow with 
four upright poles over which rush mats were thrown. 

‘^Thunder and Mars! Why don’t the fellow get out?” 


104 


IVHRRIKH. 


exclaimed Maurice. “ One would think it was the Grand 
Lama himself from all the fuss that’s being made.” 

Perhaps he’s frozen,” I suggested, cheerfully. 

Shouldn’t wonder! It must be frightful to ride in this tem- 
perature in an arrangement like that. Look, George! Look! 
Why they are taking him out by the heels. It’s just as you 
say, he must be frozen. Merciful heaven! That is what 
the fellow meant by a guest who would not crowd us off 
the k’ang. They are bringing us a corpse!” 

We pushed forward, elbowed by the camel drivers who 
seemed just as curious as ourselves. 

Between them the six men who had pressed around the 
litter were carrying a human form, so enveloped in sheep- 
skins that we could not tell at first whether it was man or 
woman. Only the face was exposed and as yet we were not 
near enough to see that. 

Slowly they walked toward the inn door, the camel drivers 
moving aside as they advanced. 

‘‘ Now is our chance for a look, George!” whispered Mau- 
rice, as they came past the spot where we had stationed our- 
selves. ‘‘Tell you what, old fellow, if we are to be housed 
up for the rest of the night with a dead man and a gang 
like this, I’m for taking to the road again, unless — great 
God! Look there!” 

“ What?” 

“ The corpse — the face!” 

“ I can’t see the face; it is covered with a cloth!” 

“ No, no! Not all covered! Look! Look!” 

I leaned forward, for now the long haired bearers were in 
the act of passing us. 

Had I been blind that I had not seen before — that I had 
not guessed? 

The corpse was that of a man, the face was one which I, 
least of all men in the world should ever forget. 

“Oh, Maurice!” 

I could say no more, for the face seen among the sheep- 
skins was the face of our Mr. Mirrikh, the man from the 
planet Mars, 


CHAPTER X. 


RESURGAM. 


They were gone. 

The last camel had departed, the tail of the hindmost 
mule had vanished over the rocky ridge, a hundred feet or 
so above the inn, which formed the apex of the mountain 
pass, Zhad-uan; the shrill ^‘sok! sok! ” of the K’ambas was 
heard no more. 

Inside the inn Maurice, Dr. Philpot, and your humble 
servant stood leaning against the k’ang, contemplating the 
lifeless body of Mr. Mirrikh, which, still enveloped in its 
sheepskin covering, lay upon its side at our feet. 

Thus we had been standing for a good ten minutes; thus 
Ah Schow found us still standing when he returned from 
the stable after feeding the mules with barley, begged 
almost for its weight in Chinese sapeks from one of the 
camel drivers of the caravan, for we had seen the last of 
our own supply. Thus, perhaps, we might have kept right 
on standing and staring for the rest of the night, but for the 
Doctor’s habit of rising to the situation, no matter how bad 
it might be. 

“ Blow me, boys, if this isn’t the rum go, you know! ” he 
exclaimed at last.” “You could have knocked me over 
with a feather, Maurice, when you came in singing out that 
Mirrikh was dead.” 

“ It’s a serious business. Doctor! A serious business,” 
replied Maurice gloomily. “You must admit it’s pretty 
hard on a fellow to have all his plans knocked in the 
head.” 

“ Best thing that ever happened you,” I said decidedly. 

“Same here! ’’added the Doctor. “Thank God we’ll 
see the last of this crazy business now, and start back for 
Calcutta before we become corpses ourselves.” 

But Maurice never answered. Instead, he gave me one 
of his reproachful looks which always had the effect of 
turning me to his side. 


io6 


MIRRIKH. 


‘‘ Philpot, are we going to inquire into the business or 
take it for granted that he is dead? I demanded. 

“ Why of course he is dead.’* 

“ Ah Schow says he couldn’t make out what was sup- 
posed to be the matter. That human sheep who first broke 
in on us, just said the body had been given them by some 
lamas in Bootan, with orders to leave it at this inn.” 

Now this was all we could make out of Ah Schow’s 
version of the affair, and we had no doubt he told us all 
that had been told to him. 

Strangely enough, it seemed to us, after the body had 
been brought in, not one of the caravan people would enter 
the place. 

The lamas of Bootan had told them to leave the corpse 
here, and here they proposed to leave it. Beyond that they 
had nothing to say. 

And it seemed very, very strange to me then, that their 
arrival should have been so nicely timed as to find us at the 
inn ready to receive the body. It was, however, to be least 
among innumerable strange happenings present in my 
thoughts, before many days had passed. 

Now they were all gone and we were alone with our 
dead; for if not ours, whose was it, I should like to 
know? 

Positively it almost seemed as though Mr. Mirrikh meant 
to give us another of his surprises; as though the whole 
matter had been pre-arranged. 

‘‘Look here, boys, we’ll soon settle the question!” ex- 
claimed Philpot, after we had indulged in some further dis- 
cussion. “ Let’s pull off some of these coverings and see 
what our Martial friend is made of. It won’t take me two 
seconds to tell if he has passed in his checks or not.” 

There could be no objection to this idea. Nothing could 
be more important than to have the question settled once 
and for all. 

We all lent our aid and removed the sheepskin without 
much difficulty, despite of the fact that it had been securely 
sewed round the body. 

Yes, it was Mirrikh. Not in the dress in which we had last 
seen him, but, like ourselves, attired as a Thibetan lama, with 
shaven head, black cloak and all. You may be very sure 
the Doctor pulled aside the shirt to see if the strange dis- 
coloration extended down upon the breast and shoulders. 


MIRRIKH. 


107 


but it did not. Below the neck Mr. Mirrikh's body was 
almost as white as my own. 

Of course the face had been carefully examined first of 
all. It was half covered with the black cloth mask, just as he 
liked to keep it, and so cold that at first the Doctor declar- 
ed that the flesh was frozen, then in a minute changing 
round and being just as positive that it was not; and we all 
fell to wondering why it was not, and I can only add that I 
am wondering still. 

Now Philpot’s medical skill came in play beautifully. 

He’s as dead as a smelt,” he exclaimed, after a most 
careful examination. “ There ain’t the slightest doubt 
about it. What can it mean? ” 

Can you distinguish no heart action? ” asked Maurice 
gloomily. 

“ Not a murmur! Try for yourself.” 

Maurice bent over the bared breast and remained with 
his ear down for fully five minutes, during which time the 
Doctor was holding his pocket mirror to the lips, trying at 
the same time to find the pulse, although he had done all 
this before.. 

Dead! 

Such was the final verdict. 

My friend Mirrikh lay a corpse; thrown at our feet, as 
one might say, in derision of our stupendous folly. 

Could we hope to play Hamlet without Hamlet? 

Decidedly this was the last act in the drama, just as the 
Doctor had said. At least that is what I thought when fi- 
nally, sometime after midnight, I stretched myself out upon 
the k’ang to try and obtain a little sleep before morning 
came; for, after a long discussion, we had decided to turn 
our mules’ noses back in the direction of Bootan with the 
rising of to-morrow’s sun. 

Maurice was asleep already. He had dropped off just as 
soon as he lay down — something very unusual for him. 

Ditto the Doctor; but he always kept one eye open, was 
continually rousing up, putting a pinch of tobacco into his 
pipe and puffing vigorously, until the next one knew, with 
the pipe within easy reach of his hand he would be snoring 
again. 

Ah Schow was asleep too, but then the faithful Celestial 
never lost an opportunity for slumber. 

Why could not I sleep like the rest? 


io8 


MIRRIKH. 


Why must I lie there as the weary moments dragged by, 
tossing uneasily upon the k’ang? 

Not that I expected to sleep when I lay down; on the 
contrary, what surprised me was the way the Doctor and 
Maurice went off and the soundness with which they were 
sleeping now. 

Then I fell to dreaming — waking dreams I mean, for I 
am ready to make a solemn affidavit that I never closed my 
eyes that night. 

I must talk about these dreams for a moment. I can re- 
member each thought of the many which flitted through my 
brain, with a distinctness so vivid that it sometimes seems 
as though some occult influence had photographed them 
upon the page of memory. I had little belief in the occult 
then — it is different now. 

It appeared to me somehow as if the room was filled 
with shadow forms — phantoms, if you will — certainly not 
seen with my natural eyes; yet see them I most assuredly 
did. 

How? 

God knows! Let those who can fathom the mysteries of 
the super-sense explain. 

I only tell what happened, I am simply a recorder, and I 
write my record truly. Make what you like out of it — ex- 
plain it in whatever way suits you best. 

Dreams, dreams, and yet surely it was not all a dream. 

I was standing near on the k’ang listening to Maurice’s 
steady breathing and the Doctor’s occasional snorts, when 
all at once I saw a form in white flit past me and approach 
the corpse. 

Was I startled? 

No! I declare solemnly I was not; and when I tried to 
move and found that a power over which I had no control 
held me down, I never made another effort. I could not 
disturb myself — I tried it and failed; a strange calmness 
seemed to have taken possession of my soul. 

Not like the shadows I had been seeing was this. Oh, 
no! It was something altogether of a different sort. 

It was the form of a woman of tall, stately figure. Her 
dress was marvellous in its whiteness — “ shining exceeding 
white as snow so as no fuller on earth can white them,” I 
found myself involuntarily murmuring, quoting from that 
sacred book which I had ever regarded with contempt. 


MIRRIKH. 


109 


Over her head a veil of some filmy material was thrown 
which practically hid her features. She raised her hands 
and threw the veil toward me as she glided past — I felt its 
touch upon my face — it was real! 

‘‘ Maurice! I must wake Maurice!’' flashed over me. “I 
must know whether these are dreams or not!” 

Useless! If a mountain had stood there ready to fall and 
crush me, I could neither have moved nor spoken a word. 

With a quick, gliding motion the veiled woman now ap- 
proached the body of Mr. Mirrikh, and bending down began 
making passes over the face, exactly as I have since seen a 
hypnotizer work upon his subject. 

I watched her. Never for an instant were my eyes re- 
moved from her. She was wondrously beautiful — divine! 

Moment succeeded moment. Still the veiled woman was 
there — still those slender, snow white hands moved to and 
fro over the face of the corpse. 

Presently a strange thing occurred — so strange that it were 
better omitted, were it not that I have sworn to keep nothing 
back. 

Now as I watched the veiled form, I perceived that it was 
growing smaller — growing thin and vapory, just as I had 
seen Mr. Mirrikh turn into vapor in the alley, at Panompin, 
on that ever memorable night. 

Then, all in an instant, the hands ceased to move and the 
form sank down upon the floor, an unmeaning mass of white 
drapery, which for a second seemed to glow with singular 
phosphorescence, and then 

Presto! 

It was gone! 

The veiled woman was no longer there! 

Terror now seized me. I tried again to move — to reach 
Maurice and awaken him, but a power incomprehensible^ 
still held me down. 

I was conscious, yet helpless. My soul was keenly alive to 
everything, but the power of controlling the body it inhabited 
seemed to have been taken away. 

There was just one thing I could do and that was to keep 
my eyes fixed upon the particular spot on the floor where 
the vapory form had vanished. 

Soon I beheld a round phosphorescent spot of light, which 
seemed to exactly fill the space upon which my vision was 
concentrated and no more. 


no 


MIRRIKH. 


Slowly it increased in size, until it was as big, perhaps, as 
a large cocoanut and of about the same shape. 

Now it changed — changed so suddenly that I neither saw 
nor knew how the change came. 

A human head was there — it was the head of a man — it 
was the head of Mr. Mirrikh — the face was partly yellow — 
partly black! 

Eyes, nose, mouth — every feature was perfect, yet there 
was nothing but the head resting on the floor. 

Suddenly the eyes turned toward me and fixed themselves 
on my own. Then I saw the lips move, and as distinctly as 
I ever heard human lips utter sounds, I heard him say: 

“ Mr. Wylde, I greet you! This is the way we come up!” 

Did I answer? 

Never! 

To save me from death I could not have spoken. 

I saw the head rise — saw bust and shoulders form from 
filmy vapor. Next, he was there on his hands and knees, 
and then with a sudden spring he leaped to his feet and 
stood beside his own corpse — a man! 

“ Turn your head the other way, Mr. Wylde. You have 
seen all that is best for you to see,” he said in that calm 
way which I remembered so well. 

Now I was as powerless to remain without motion as be- 
fore I had been powerless to move — my head seemed to turn 
of its own accord. 

‘‘Wylde! Wylde! Wake up! Wake up, man!” 

Merciful God, had I been asleep? Was it a dream again? 
Do not ask me, for I do not know! 

All I can say is that I sprang from the k’ang my own 
master, and found myself facing that man of mystery, weighed 
down by a sense of awe. 

It was Mirrikh — Mirrikh in the flesh — Mirrikh alive — the 
same Mirrikh who had talked with us in the tower. 

I turned my eyes, seeking the corpse. 

It had disappeared. 





IMM 


lililK 

miiiiik 


{*'( II ; ii 

5m" I 








! 


4 


CHAPTER XL 


ON THE ROAD TO PSAM-DAGONG. 

I SAID nothing about it to the Doctor, but I told Maurice 
all. 

I was almost sorry that Mirrikh had not stayed in his 
sheepskins, that the caravan had not made a miss of it and 
dropped him somewhere else, for the next day found us 
mounted upon our mules plodding over the mountains, 
with their noses pointing toward Lh’asa instead of Bootan. 

Words cannot express the utter amazement of Philpot 
and Maurice when they awakened to find my friend Mr. 
Mirrikh alive and seated comfortably on the k’ang by my 
side. 

‘‘Gad! No! I say, no! It can’t be!” 

The Doctor was first to wake. 

“ What is the matter? ” Mr. Mirrikh asked with his ac- 
customed calmness. 

“The matter! Great heavens, he wants to know the mat- 
ter! Why man, you are dead! If you ain’t you ought to 
be, or I’m in the first stages of softening of the brain.” 

But Maurice was different. 

Perhaps he was only half awake, though, at the time. It 
was after Ah Schow, who had been awakened by the Doc- 
tor’s racket, gave one yell of terror at the sight of our guest 
and went flying out of doors. Ah Schow, be it understood, 
was a firm believer in ghosts, and of course he took Mr. 
Mirrikh for one. Indeed, I was not quite certain on the 
subject myself! 

I can see that dear boy now, just as he looked when he 
started up. His eyes rested on the Doctor first, then they 
passed to my adept. 

“Mr. Mirrikh!’* 

“Yes.” 

“ Not dead ? ” ^ 

“ I am here, my friend. I have kept my appointment!” 

“I knew it! Doctor, I told you so.’ I knew he would 
not fail us!’* 


MIRRIKH. 


II4 

He was wild in his enthusiasm — mad. 

Then the Doctor! 

I fancy I see him now, fumbling unsteadily In his tobacco 
pouch with that stub of a pipe he always smoked, his eyes 
fixed upon Mr. Mirrikh, to whom Maurice was pouring out 
words in the way he used to do, which I had tried in vain 
to make him do of late. 

‘‘I say, look here; give a fellow a show, will you, De 
Veber? Do you find it more convenient, Mr. Mirrikh, in 
traveling in this blasted country to freeze yourself like a 
side of beef and be forwarded by fast camel express? ** 

Mr. Mirrikh laughed shortly. 

** Now, Doctor; now. Doctor! he exclaimed. “ You are 
not sorry to see me alive, I trust?” 

** I have nothing to say about that one way or the other,” 
replied the Doctor in his most positive fashion. What I 
say is this — and I stick to it — when I examined you last 
night you were dead.” 

Again the adept gave his peculiar laugh. 

** This is a strange country, Doctor,” he said lightly. ^^The 
strangest part of it is to see a dead man get hungry. I am 
most horribly hungry just now, so let us postpone further 
discussion till after breakfast, if it is all the same to you.” 

But the discussion was not renewed. 

The Doctor seemed to feel that he had made a blunder 
which would lower him in our estimation as a general 
“ knowledgist,” and showed a disposition to drop the matter. 
As for myself, I maintained profound silence; not only on 
the subject of this marvellous resurrection, but likewise on 
all that Mr. Mirrikh told me after it took place. 

Not that this amounted to much, I was full of amazement 
when he seized my hand and said warningly : 

Now Mr. Wylde, you have been brought face to face 
with a mystery which it has been the good fortune of but 
few of you earth dwellers to see. Be careful! No casting 
pearls before swine! I was determined to give you this 
satisfaction and I have done it; but such mysteries are not 
for all.” 

It took me many minutes to collect myself, but I caught 
the spirit of his warning words, and was ready for him at 
last. 

“ What have you done? What does it all mean?” I de- 
manded. ‘‘ Who gave you the power to transcend the laws 


MIRRIKH. 


II5 

of Nature, to conquer death, to make yourself as a God ?” 

** You are wrong at the very outset,” he replied. “ There 
is but one God, our Father Eternal in the heavens, and did 
you but acknowledge Him, you would be a happier man. 
Neither I nor any of His creatures can transcend the laws 
which He has ordained from the beginning; some under- 
stand them better than others — that is all.” 

“ You were not dead then?” , 

‘‘No. Of course not. God alone has power over life 
and death.” 

“ But ” 

“Stay; do you know anything of the philosophy of the 
Buddhist adepts ? ” 

“ Very little.” 

“ Then to try to explain what you have seen is hopeless. 
To comprehend these things the mind needs long and care- 
ful training. Believe me when I say that this is but a tithe of 
the mysteries which I will reveal to you before we finally part.” 

“ Would that we might part now and forever — that your 
spell was removed from that dear boy,” I replied, bitterly. 

“ Do not say so. He has his work to do, you have yours.” 

“ Would that we had never met.” 

“We were destined to meet. God willed it.” 

“At least I was powerless to prevent it; but I earnestly 
beseech you to release my friend from the glamour you have 
cast over him, and go your own way.” 

“ No; I cannot. It is not to be.” 

“ It should be so if I could make it so.” 

“ That you cannot do!” 

“ I know it. I have tried.” 

“ And failed.” 

“ Hopelessly failed.” 

And yet you do not seem to feel as hardly toward me as I 
should expect.” 

“ I have tried to do so, but even there I fail, and I do not 
know why I should, unless it is that you have cast some por- 
tion of your spell over me.” 

He laughed softly. 

“ My dear sir, to hear you talk, one would think I was 
some cheap magician. I could no more cast a spell over 
you than you could cast one over me.” 

“ I am assured to the the contrary. The experience of 
the last hour proves to the contrary.” 


ii6 


MIRRIKH. 


“ You do not believe that you saw what you actually did 
see?’’ 

“ No. I refuse to believe it. I utterly reject it.” 

“ Do you know the full meaning of what you saw?” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“ You do not.” 

“ I beg your pardon, I do.” 

“ I repeat, you do not. Mr. Wylde, let me tell you some- 
thing. It will surprise you when I inform you that one 
hour ago I was in Benares in the private apartments of my 
friend, Radma Gungeet, whom I understand you have met 
since I was with you last.” 

“ That I know to be false.” 

‘*On the contrary, you know nothing about it; moreover 
it is true.” 

“ But your body ” 

Bah! What is this earthly body? I speak of my astral 
body, which envelopes the soul, my real self. I am no more 
bound to this body than you are to the black gown you wear 
at the present moment, which, by the way, becomes you 
immensely. Why, I have not been with this body before 
for months. I dreaded the journey to this place and sent 
my body on ahead — that is all.” 

“ And it is quite enough!” I cried angrily. “ I will hear 
no more of it. You have deluded me in some way. I am 
at a loss to tell how, but listen to your theosophic rubbish 
any longer, I won’t.” 

He sighed, and turned away muttering : 

“ Useless, useless! They cannot understand. Will the 
time never come?” 

This ended our conversation, for just then the Doctor 
woke up and the fun began. 

Morning dawned — another day was upon us; after a long 
and heated discussion we were on the move again. 

Not that Mr. Mirrikh joined in the argument. He saia 
nothing, but walked out into the open as soon as I began it, 
remaining there until it was over. 

The discussion was between Maurice, the Doctor ana 
myself. 

“It is no use, George; let that man be what he may, I 
shall go on,” Maurice had said. “He has made certain 
promises to me, set up certain claims. So far he has kept 
his promises and established his claims, and I propose to stick 


MIRRIKH. 1 17 

to him. You, if you like, can return to India. Please 
yourself.'* 

I shall never return without you, Maurice," I replied. 
“ The future has nothing in store for me. Where you go, 
I go. At least shall have the satisfaction of being at your 
side when the day of disaster comes, as come it surely 
will." 

He pressed my hand with unusual warmth, and that was 
the last of our discussion. 

Soon Ah Schow brought the mules around to the door 
and we started down the mountain. 

As there were only three mules, Mr. Mirrikh rode double 
with Maurice as far as the town of Zhad-uan, where a 
fourth was purchased, after which it was easier travelling, 
though it was all hard enough. 

A hundred miles lay before us, Mr. Mirrikh said, and we 
took it for granted that he knew. 

Now as I had been contemplating writing a detailed 
account of the manners and customs of this unknown land, 
I was not a little disappointed to learn that our way for the 
entire distance lay through an utterly desolate country; 
little less, in fact, than an endless series of broken 
mountain chains, sandy deserts and barren plains. 

Zhad-uan was the frontier town of the region, and after a 
short stay we were on the road again. 

Now from the moment we left the inn, Mr. Mirrikh con- 
ducted himself in every way like a human being — whether 
or not he was one, I had begun to feel grave doubts. 

My philosophy was completely shattered, and even the 
Doctor was silent on the subject. 

To the outward observer we were simply four black 
lamas travelling with their servant. To ourselves we were 
a mystery — all except the Doctor, and I honestly believe 
that in spite of his protests he was glad of the decision to 
advance. I will do the man the justice to say that the ad- 
vice he had offered to the contrary was expressed solely for 
our good. 

We had with us everything needed to make us as com- 
fortable as circumstances would permit; tent, cooking 
utensils, canned meats and vegetables. No one interfered 
with us, and I came to the conclusion that no one would to 
the end. 

Not that we passed unchallenged. 


ii8 


MIRRIKH. 


At Zhad-uan, for instance, we were stopped and hurried 
before the Chinese governor of the town. 

I thought that Mr. Mirrikh would take the initiative and 
suggested it. 

Show your passport,*' he said. Nothing else is neces- 
sary.” 

I exhibited the paper to a fat mandarin with a tremen- 
dously long moustache, who sat before us on a bamboo chair, 
eating watermelon seeds and listening sleepily to his assis- 
tant who was interrogating Ah Schow. 

It resulted just as usual. We had been through the same 
scene many times before, until now it had grown quite 
familiar. 

The mandarin put on a pair of huge horn spectacles and 
glanced at the mysterious paper; his face giving no expres- 
sion of his thoughts as he folded it up and handed it back. 

‘‘Peace be with you my lords lamas! ” he said. “The 
way lies open before you — pass on.’* 

Easier said than done, for there are few countries on the 
face of the globe more difficult to travel in than eastern 
Thibet. 

We were two days at Zhad-uan, staying at the hotel of 
Faith and Perseverance — so its name, translated, reads. 

It required more faith than I possessed to make a hotel 
out of it, but there was a place for us to lie down and sleep, 
and that was about all we had looked for. Of course we 
had to cook for ourselves. 

Down here in the valley the weather was warm and com- 
fortable, but all around us we could see rising the snow 
capped peaks of the northern Himalayas, so we knew what 
we had to expect. 

We started at daylight, presenting quite an imposing ap- 
pearance as we rode through the crooked streets out of town. 

Men stared, women and children crowded to the doors 
of the low, smoke begrimed houses; not a few beseeched 
our prayers as we passed, for Ah Schow, the rascal, had 
given it out that we were lamas whose prayers were most 
powerful, especially in healing the sick. 

In fact we were often called upon to pray hy these people 
and for that purpose each of us carried a copper prayer 
wheel which we ground industriously when occasion re- 
quired, always winding up with the assurance that Buddha 
had heard and would grant the request. 


MIRRIKH. 


II9 

All that day over the plain, resting at night in our own 
tent at the foot of the loftiest mountain I had yet seen. 

Morning found us ascending the foot hills, and by noon 
we reached the beginning of a pass between two snowy 
peaks, the bed of some ancient river certainly, where huge 
boulders and masses of broken rock lay heaped in inexplic- 
able confusion with a narrow trail winding in and out. 

This was our road, according to Mr. Mirrikh — we were 
trusting entirely to his guidance now. 

Seems to me it would have paid you better to have 
made one jump from Benares to Psam-dagong,’* I said in a 
sarcastic moment. 

And left you to struggle with all these dangers alone? 
he replied. You do not do me half justice, Mr. Wylde.” 

“ Do you mean to say that you knew you would meet us 
at the inn? ” 

Most certainly I did.” 

And your body? ” 

“ Was delivered there by my orders, of course.” 

“ Upon my word you timed it well then.” 

‘‘ Such was my intention.” 

‘‘ How did you manage? ” 

No matter now. The Doctor is trying to overtake us. 
We will talk of this some other time.” 

Maurice’s mule was decidedly the best, and, as usual, had 
gone ahead. Mr. Mirrikh and I followed, while the 
Doctor and our Celestial cuisiniere had fallen behind. 

Do you know, Wylde, we are running head first into a 
snow storm? ” called the former as he spurred up the slope. 

What do you think about it Mr. Mirrikh? Am I not 
right? ” 

The adept surveyed the clouds, which for some time had 
been gathering. 

“ There certainly is a storm approaching,” he said at 
length. have been blind not to notice it before.” 

“ I saw it half an hour back,” said the Doctor, proudly, 
and I’ve been trying ever since to force this lazy brute 
along so as to overtake you. Is Maurice far ahead ?” 

I pointed upward. There, fully two hundred feet above 
us, was Maurice mounted on his mule, moving at a snail’s 
pace it seemed, but it was rapid compared with our own. 

‘‘We ought to warn him. What are we to do, Mr. 
Mirrikh? ” 


120 


MIRRIKH 


the best we can. There is a guard house at the 
summit of the pass — we can spend the night there.” 

^‘Yes, and be most deucedly uncomfortable till morning. 
You say there is no town between this and your lamasery?” 

‘‘ None.” 

Of course you know ? ” 

I should know. I have passed this way before.” 

Seems to me,” said the Doctor, in his most sarcastic 
manner, “ that when I get ready to drop down on Jupiter, 
I’ll take devilish good care to select a better place to fall 
in than Thibet.” 

‘‘ You will find no such place on the planet Jupiter as 
Thibet;” replied the adept, calmly. 

Oh, dear! Is that so? Of course you know.” 

‘‘ I have been there.” 

I find no more difficulty in believing that assertion than 
some others you have made.” 

‘‘ That I come from Mars for instance?” 

“ For instance!” 

“Jupiter,” continued Mr. Mirrikh, paying no attention to 
the Doctor’s offensive manner, “is now passing through 
a geologic age corresponding with the earth’s Tertiary period. 
There it is all summer, all — I beg your pardon, Mr. 
Wylde. For once I forgot myself. You do not like to 
hear me talk of these matters. I will stop.” 

“ Go on, if you wish,” I replied. “ I have nothing to 
say, except that you must not expect me to believe you.” 

“ Oh, don’t stop! Don’t stop!” said the Doctor. “I’m 
deeply interested. No doubt you’ve been to Mercury and 
Saturn as well as old Jove; like as not a comet or two has 
been honored by your presence. It will be worth all this 
mad journey has cost friend George, to have your personal 
experiences on the other side of the moon!” 

And so it went all through the first part of the time we 
travelled with Mr. Mirrikh; yet I never saw the man out of 
temper or even ruffied once. 

Usually he and Maurice kept together, the Doctor and I 
being left to keep each other company as best we could. 

Long and earnest were the conversations those two held. 
What were they talking about? I never knew — do not 
know now. 

The Doctor was right about the snow storm. 

That night saw us imprisoned in the guard house at the 


MIRRIKH. 


I2I 


top of the pass with a perfect blizzard in full operation out- 
side. 

Of course if I was writing a book of travels in Thibet it would 
be scarcely en regie to shift my scenes thus abruptly; but 
this is not a book of travel, and although my notes are fairly 
bursting with incidents, I am trying in my feeble way to 
treat of the occult, and to the occult my story must be 
confined. 

I ought, however, to say a descriptive word about these 
guard houses, which, like the inns already described, are 
found all over Eastern Thibet. Although actually a Chinese 
institution, and supposed to be kept in repair by the govern- 
ment — they are intended to be on all the great roads at a 
distance of two miles apart — it is only once in awhile 
you meet one in shape to afford even shelter from a shower, 
and that is why the Thibetans, who know by sad experience 
what it is to depend upon the Chinese government for any- 
thing, have established the inns and try to make them what 
the guard houses should be but are not. 

The guard house we had come upon was, however, one 
of the best of its class. Picture to your mind a square, box- 
like structure, about twenty feet each way, one story in height, 
built of mud and whitewashed. There was a large door in 
front and two rooms within, opening off each side of the hall 
which was supposed to accommodate our mules, and I must 
confess did, and very comfortably too. The rooms were 
small and each had its window and k’ang, while in addition 
was a wooden bench running around the walls and painted 
bright red with Thibetan characters cut in the wood, mean- 
ing, according to Mr. Mirrikh, the sublime ruler of the 
Flowery Kingdom, trusted sincerely that his elder brother 
might enjoy a comfortable night’s rest.” 

Outside, the walls were decorated with rude paintings, 
dragons, horsemen and grinning gods with huge moustaches 
being scattered treelyover the whitewash; on the walls within 
were pictorial representations of sabres, bows, arrows and 
spears, supposed to take the place of armed soldiers to 
defend the traveller from the robbers with which all Thibet 
is infested, though, strangely enough, we never encountered 
them once. 

“ By Jove, quite Chinese, you know!” exclaimed the Doc- 
tor, when he saw these pictured weapons. They are to 
scare the robbers off!” 


122 


MIRRIKH. 


Such was actually their purpose; but the only purpose 
they served that night was to amuse Maurice, who spent a 
good hour studying them while dreaming over his pipe. 

This was after we were comfortably housed and supper 
eaten. Meanwhile the storm, of which we had already had 
a taste, being in it half an hour before we reached the 
guard house, was raging furiously outside. 

The Doctor as usual, had laid down to sleep on the most 
comfortable part of the k’ang, Mirrikh was seated cross- 
legged facing him, busy writing in that sgme little book 
about which I had made such a stir in the old tower at 
Ballambong. I was pacing the floor lost in thought appar- 
ently, but actually watching the man as he wrote. I had 
watched him before and more than once I questioned him 
about those strange characters and the language they repre- 
sented, but I never succeded in getting any information worth 
recording here. 

It is my native language,” he replied, the first time I 
asked him. You cannot understand it, Mr. Wylde.” 

“ Learned on Mars? ” was my incredulous query. 

He assured me that it was so, and probably my manner of 
receiving the statement was what prevented me from getting 
further particulars. Often since I have wished that I had 
acted differently and learned something definite about the 
matter; but I neglected my opportunity and can only add 
that upon another occasion he told me the characters were 
entirely arbitrary and in no sense an alphabet, being rather 
stenographic — each expressing a word, several words, a 
thought. 

How the wind howled! I can hear it now! Nor was it 
any wonder, when you stop to consider that we were, as I 
learned later, over ii,ooo feet above sea level; fortunately 
we were under the shelter of a lofty peak which towered 
far above us on the northwest, and what was more to the 
point, a perpendicular wall of rock at least one hundred feet 
high rose directly behind the guard house — the location had 
been chosen, no doubt, for that very cause. 

Cold? Well, make no mistake on that score! The k’ang 
was almost useless to one three feet away. I had sent Ah 
Schow out to throw an extra sheepskin over my mule who 
was far from being in condition, poor brute, and was just 
wondering why he did not come in again, when all at once 
Mr. Mirrikh leaped from, the k’ang with a startled cry. 


MIRRIKH. 


123 


Merciful heavens!’' he exclaimed, “this is terrible!” 

“ What? ” cried Maurice, turning suddenly around. 

“ Got a fit, Mirrikh? ” asked the Dortor, lazily, never stir- 
ring from his comfortable roost on the k’ang. 

For the moment the adept did not answer, but just stood 
there with his eyes fixed on nothingness, an expression of 
unmistakable horror mingled with deep pity plainly pictur- 
ed upon his face. 

“ What is it? What is the matter? Speak,” persisted 
Maurice. 

He sighed and raised his head slowly. Then up came 
one hand which was brushed before his eyes. 

“ Gentlemen,” he said, with more agitation than I ever 
afterward saw him display, “ we are needed outside. There 
is human life in peril; if there is yet time I propose to 
save it; who will go?” 

“ Go where? What can you mean? ” I exclaimed. 

“ I mean that on a ledge a little off the road on the other 
slope of this ridge there is at this very moment a woman — 
she is freezing rapidly — she sits beside a man — I think the 
man is already dead, or at least dying — he is an old man — I 
can see his grey hair — he — ah! She calls! She calls! Come! 
Come! Wylde! Come Mr. De Veber — before it is too late.” 

He threw his cloak about him, over that drew a sheepskin 
coat and rushed to the door, nearly falling into the arms of 
Ah Schow who was just coming back from his visit to the 
mules. 

“Out of my way! ” he shouted. “ Why do you block my 
path? De Veber are you never going to make a move? ” 

Maurice seized his gun and was ready, for he had not 
removed any of his outer wraps. 

“Mad! Mad! Ye Gods! I’m buried with a lot of luna- 
tics! ” cried Philpot, “ For heaven’s sake don’t you desert 
me, Wylde. I had some hope that you and I, at least, 
might get back to civilization again.” 

“ I’m with Maurice,” I answered hurriedly, and losing no 
time rushed out to face the storm. 


CHAPTER XIL 


WHAT WE FOUND IN THE STORM. 

I NEVER saw it snow as it snowed that night. I have en- 
countered many a blizzard in the Far West, to say nothing of 
my experience on the Pacific Railroad, which, of course, it 
would be out of place to dwell upon here, and I only allude 
to it to show that I am not unfamiliar with blizzards. I re- 
peat, the worst I ever saw was that night among the moun- 
tains of Eastern Thibet. 

When I was outside the guard house there were Maurice 
and Mr. Mirrikh waiting for me amid a whirl of whitened 
flakes, which already covered them so completely that it was 
hard to tell which was skeepskin and which snow. I be- 
lieve I failed to mention that we had alb provided ourselves 
with the sheepskin coats of the country at Zhad-uan. Big 
clumsy things they were, too, and worn with the woolly side 
out. It was by advice of our adept that we purchased them 
— I never fully appreciated the necessity until now. 

They were waiting for me and it is well they were, other- 
wise I might never have found them, for a camel would have 
been invisible five feet away from the door. 

We want a lantern!” cried Maurice. George, you 
are nearest, go back and get one, like a good fellow.” 

We do not need it,” interposed the adept. My pow- 
ers of vision are quite sufficient. Come! Come! We 
are wasting time.” 

‘‘ Impossible!” shouted Maurice, and even then I could 
scarcely hear him. ‘‘ You nor no other man can see in a 
whirl like this.” 

Friends,” he answered. ^ I see by a vision of which 
you know nothing. Every moment is precious: for God’s 
sake come!” 

I had gained Mausice’s side by this time, and with my 
mouth close to his ear begged him earnestly not to go — or 
at least to insist on the lantern. 

Somewhat to my surprise he listened to the latter part of 
my proposition, though utterly rejecting the former. The 


MIRRIKH. 


125 


lantern was procured, all three of us returning to the guard 
house for that purpose. How well I remember the Doctor’s 
vigorous protest against our mad folly when we started out 
the second time. 

We must keep together,” said the adept, so perhaps 
after all it is better with a lantern, it will be a help on that 
score, if no other. Give it to me. We shall have to go single 
file. It is not so fiar.” 

Think of the folly of it! Where were we going and 
why ? I find myself at a loss for words to explain the feel- 
ings I experienced when we moved away from the guard 
house in the face of the storm, wallowing in snow already 
knee deep. 

We had heard no cry for help, had seen nothing, knew 
nothing to make it appear that our mad venture had any 
object. We were acting entirely on the bare claim of 
this singular individual to a superhuman sight. Bitterly I 
cursed the strange influence which he had come to exercise 
over Maurice, but for my friend’s sake I struggled on, firm 
in the belief that we had started on a fruitless quest. 

It was useless to try and talk, for only by shouting could 
we make ourselves heard. The fury of the wind seemed to 
increase every moment. The snow whirled against our faces 
with blinding intensity, yet in spite of it all we started down 
the mountain road by the way we had come. 

Mr. Mirrikh went first, Maurice followed, I, keeping as 
close to my friend as possible, brought up the rear. 

On our left rose a wall of rock towering high above our 
heads; on the right yawned a precipice over the edge of 
which one false step might precipitate us to an awful fate. 
All this I had seen before darkness settled over the moun- 
tain and remembered it but too well. Ten minutes passed 
— it seemed as though we had been fighting the storm for 
hours. Raising my voice to the highest pitch, I called to 
Mr. Mirrikh and implored him to return. 

‘‘Courage!” he shouted back. “Courage, Mr. Wylde! 
It is but a few steps! Do you remember that big white 
boulder you examined on the way up and pronounced an 
evidence of glacial action — it is there.” 

“ We can’t be far from that now,” cried Maurice. “ It 
was only a few minutes before we reached the guard house 
after we passed it.” 

“We are close upon it!” he called. “Just a little more 


126 


MIRRIKH. 


effort, friends! Ha! What was that? Now you will believe 
that I told the truth!’* 

It was a human voice — a cry! 

Faintly it fell upon our ears, but it was real. 

“ Coming!” shouted Mirrikh. 

I remember thinking it a pity none of us understood 
Thibetan that we might convey some hope to this perishing 
soul, but the adept with all his wonderful powers assured us 
that he knew no more of the tongue than we did ourselves. 

Of course I objected no longer, but spoke words of 
cheer to Maurice, who was certainly the weakest physi- 
cally of the three. 

I was lost in wonder at the whole strange business. How 
had Mirrikh known? What was the secret of this power 
thus to project his vision indefinitely? I thought of clair- 
voyance, second sight and similar things, which until then, 
I had considered only so many different names for humbug 
and chicanery. Never before had I realized how little I 
understood the latent powers within every man as on that 
memorable night. 

Again the cry and again we shouted back encouraging 
words. It began to look as though we were going to accom- 
plish something after all. 

Keep well up to the left!” said the adept. The snow 
is gathering on the edge of the precipice — one false step and 
we are lost.” 

“ It can’t be a great way now,” said Maurice,” and I am 
thankful for it. Fact is, George, I’m pretty nearly used up.” 

Twenty paces brought us to the white boulder. We came 
upon it suddenly; almost before we knew it there it was 
rising before us amid the whirl of snow. 

“ Is there any one here?” shouted Mirrikh, flashing the 
lantern about. ^ 

Then for the first time I heard that voice which was to 
have such power to move me later on. 

‘‘ Help! Oh help us! We are perishing! ” 

Though spoken with a very marked accent, the words 
were in our own language. It is hard to express the effect 
this produced on me, and I am sure with Maurice it was 
just the same. 

‘‘George! It is a woman! She is speaking English!” 
he shouted, as we pressed forward after the adept, who had 
already reached the rock. 


MIRRIKH. 


127 


It Stood to the left with a space of perhaps six feet 
between it and the perpendicular wall against which the path 
was cut. A huge detached mass of white quartz, at least 
five feet in height and eight or ten in length, it offered 
some slight shelter from the storm. 

There, in that narrow space, sat a young woman with a 
sheepskin drawn about her, bending over another sheepskin 
which lay at her feet, half buried in the snow. It covered 
a human form — a man. There was the grey head resting 
in her lap, and the feet projecting below that woolly cover- 
ing. Still and silent it lay, and I seemed to know intuitively 
that all hope was idle. Truly death stalketh in the storm. 

Not that my mind dwelt upon this— not that it was even 
remembered in the instant that followed. 

As the adept’s lantern was flashed behind the rock and 
his voice spoke words of cheer, the woman’s eyes were 
raised and her face turned upward. 

“ Merciful powers! ” cried Maurice; it’s that same girl 
we met on the road back from Ballambong!” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AT PSAM-DAGONG. 


Yes, it was she.” 

Walla Benjow was the name we came to know her by 
from that fearful night. 

Fate had again thrown her in our path. 

Now in these later days, when I have learned to believe in 
an all-wise protecting Providence, I feel certain it was fore- 
ordained that we should meet. 

Three days passed. We were still at the guard house. At 
last the storm spent its fury and the sun rose upon a won- 
drous scene. As far as the eye could reach in every direct- 
ion the whole face of the country lay buried under a cover- 
ing of snow deeper than the height of an ordinary man. 

Never have I viewed a grander sight. It was as though 
we had been raised above Nature and could look down with 
a calm and critical eye. Here we saw her exhibited on a 


128 


MiRRIKH. 


scale extended to distances bounded only by the mighty 
barriers of the Himalayas. All was bold and colossal; deep 
mountain gorges, towering peaks, awful precipices and 
beetling crags all rounded off and changed into a thousand 
fantastic shapes by the whirl of the drifting snow. 

It was a sight to make a man think of his own insignifi- 
cance and God’s greatness, if, happily, by education or con- 
viction he is able to comprehend what I do in some meas- 
ure now, but did not then, the mighty mystery of the infinite; 
the loving Father who doeth all things and doeth all things 
well. 

We stood on a rocky eminence about a hundred feet 
above the guard house. Dr. Philpot and I. Looking off we 
could see to an interminable distance on all sides, for we 
were at the very summit of the ridge, and our way lay down 
to the whitened plains below, where far, far in the distance, 
on the beginning of the next rise, we could faintly discern a 
cluster of low, square-built structures, with a gilded dome 
above them. This, our adept had informed us, was our 
destination — the lamasery of Psam-dagong. 

“ What a frightful country,” growled the Rev. Philpot as 
he and I were returning from our point of observation, 
shortly after daylight that morning. Do you know, 
Wylde, it’s my humble opinion that we shall never succeed 
in reaching the lamasery. By Jove! I’d give something if 
we had Mirrikh’s levitating powers and could with one 
jump throw ourselves back into the big courtyard of the 
Nagkon Wat. Summer is what I’m sighing for now.” 

You don’t wish it any more than I do then,” I replied 
gloomily. 

I suppose nothing that either you or I could say would 
move Maurice in the least.” 

Nothing. He is completely under that man’s in- 
fluence.” 

‘‘ Wholly so. His individuality seems submerged in 
Mirrikh. Each day only adds to it. Why, he hasn’t even 
got eyes for that delightful creature you picked out of 
the snow storm, when a child could see that she is dead 
gone on him.” 

“ How absurd! ” I replied tartly. “ The girl is all sorrow 
over the loss of her father. Maurice is sympathetic by 
nature which attracts her toward him — that is all.” 

He gave me a curious look — a look which set me to 


MIRRIKH. 


129 


wondering if he possessed some small share of the adept's 
powers and could read the thoughts then uppermost in my 
mind. 

“ Nothing absurd about it," he answered, digging his heel 
into the thick crust which now covered the snow every- 
where. “I’m no fool, Wylde. No man has studied the fair 
sex more carefully than I have. Let me tell you a secret. 
The girl is in love! “ 

“ With Maurice? " 

“ With Maurice.” 

“ Don't talk ridiculous nonsense. Doctor! '' 

“ Ta, ta! Don't you get mad, my boy, for we can't afford 
to quarrel. By Jove! I guess we’d better drop the subject; 
though, if I chose, I could add a corollory to my problem 
— but I won't.'* 

I gave him a look, but he had turned his head away and 
was lightly humming an air from La Grande Duchesse^ 

“You fool,'' I thought. “ You had better take care! '' 

But my thought did not refer to the Doctor. On the 
contray, its reference was wholly to myself. 

“We won't talk any more about it,'' I said quietly 
enough. “ The question we are most interested in now is 
the crust. Is it strong enough to bear us? Are we going to 
start to-day or remain housed till another storm catches us.” 

“ Here comes old double face! ” exclaimed the Doctor. 
“ He’s running the whole business. Let him decide.” 

It was Mr. Mirrikh. As we rounded a projecting corner 
of the overhanging ledge, we saw him approaching. His 
face was bare, for he had abandoned the mask the day we 
left Zhad-uan, there being no particular advantage in wear- 
ing it for our benefit, and I am sure it must have been a 
nuisance at the best. 

Had he heard? 

There was no reason why he should not have heard, for 
he was close upon us. I gave the Doctor a nudge of warn- 
ing, but too late. Still if he heard he showed it by no sign. 

“Good morning, Wylde; good morning. Doctor!” he 
shouted. “ Glorious morning, is it not? The rain last night 
has done the work for us. Almost never rains at this season 
in Thibet, so we may take it as quite a miracle. There is 
now nothing to hinder us from making a start.” 

“ How long will it take us to reach the lamasery? ” I in- 
quired by way of answer. 


130 


MIRRIKH. 


That depends. If the crust continues to bear the mules 
all the way, we can make splendid time — I should think a 
day and a night ought to do it.” 

Camping on the snow,” groaned the Doctor. 

“ I fear so. When I passed here before it was summer, 
and I remember no inn, not even a guard house, in fact, 
until we reached this point.” 

“ In which case we may as well make the best of Ah 
Schow's breakfast,” I added, for the adept had turned back 
with us and we were now near the door of the guard house, 
before which Maurice was pacing up and down, smoking 
his pipe on an empty stomach, as I had begged him in vain 
not to do at least a hundred times. 

After that we all went in and sat down around the bowl of 
smoking tsamba and a few trifles of our own in the way of 
canned goods to help it out. 

There were four of us now, besides Ah Schow, when be- 
fore there had been only three. 

The fourth was Walla Benjow, the girl we had taken from 
the storm. 

And the fifth — the father? 

Dead, and lying in the shallow grave, which we, with 
immense difficulty, had managed to dig in a sheltered spot 
behind the guard house wall. 

I remember, and with a shudder, even now, just how he 
looked when we brought him in and placed him on the 
k’ang. His head hung down, his arms seemed glued to his 
sides, his face was as white as wax, and the half open eyes 
glassy, with little icicles hanging from his nostrils and the 
corners of his mouth. 

But I do not think he was dead then; at least the Doctor 
assured us he was not, and once, I will swear, I saw his eyes 
roll upward and fix themselves on me with a ghastly stare. 

He must have ceased to suffer though, long before that, 
for he was frozen stiff when we found him. Old blood 
flows slowly — this man’s had ceased to circulate within a 
few minutes after we laid him on the k’ang, although we all 
did what we could for him; even the Doctor, roused to 
sympathy, exercising all his skill, which was by no means 
slight. 

What a singular procession we must have formed when 
Philpot opened the door and we filed into the room. 

Mr. Mirrikh, whose strength was stupendous, carried the 


MIRRIKH. 


131 

girl in his arms and showed no sign of fatigue, while Mau- 
rice and I were staggering with the father between us, almost 
winded, hardly able to get him along. 

I could write pages about it all, but where would be the 
use? Enough has been written already to answer all pract- 
tical purposes; matters of graver import await, and I must 
hasten on. 

We buried the father, but we saved the daughter. Saved 
her for what? 

Merciful God! I cannot think of it without a shudder. 
But I anticipate and must return. 

She suffered much, poor child. Her frozen limbs and 
hands were but the lightest of it. Her grief for her father 
was pitiful to see. 

Did she recall us? 

She did, and from the first. Some time elapsed before 
we could question her; there was the weeping to be over 
with, and hunger had to be satisfied, of course. We got to 
it at last. 

Her’s was a strange story. It ran thus: 

Walla Benjow was the daughter of a tribe which inhabits 
the southern slope of the Kuen-lun mountains, a region far 
to the north of where we were, into which no European has 
ever set foot. As different from the Thibetans as they are 
from the Tartars who surround them, these people have 
dwelt in their mountain homes from time immemorial — even 
their name, which I am not going to give, is unknown to the 
civilized world. 

At an early age this girl had been stolen from her parents 
and carried south, ultimately reaching Mandalay, where by 
a singular combination of circumstances she had fallen into 
the hands of an American merchant, a Mr. Julius Archer, 
whom I have since learned was a Philadelphian, long estab- 
lished in business at Mandalay. 

You see I took particular pains to investigate this matter 
afterward and had the satisfaction of proving the entire 
truth of Walla’s claim, which was that she had lived ten 
years with the Archers; at the first as nurse to their children, 
later as companion. Fortunately or otherwise. Madam 
Archer conceived a violent fancy for her, and went to con- 
siderable trouble to educate the girl, and I must admit that 
she succeeded admirably, for Walla could not only read and 
write English, but had been instructed in other branches, 


132 


MIRRIKH. 


and — but enough. I cannot dwell on this matter in detail. 
Sufficient to add that Mrs. Archer died, and Walla, at the 
age of eighteen, found herself adrift. What might have 
been her fate God alone knows, had she not one day run 
against her father in the bazaar! 

To the girl it seemed amazing and it was so in very truth, 
for the distance between Mandalay and the Kuen-lun coun- 
try is over a thousand miles. Yet this was a small part of 
the journey the old man had undertaken, travelling always 
on foot and alone. For years he had been a wanderer and 
for what? , Simply that he might find his daughter, the child 
of his old age, and take her back with him to the mountain 
home where her mother lay in an untimely grave; with even 
that better than living mad, as she had lived from the hour 
her daughter disappeared. 

This was all, except that Walla’s heart was tender and her 
joy at seeing her father great. 

Together they started on the long journey back to the 
Kuen-lun, the old man still in his character of an itinerant 
trader, Walla as his companion. For safety she resumed the 
native dress — or rather undress, and swore by her father’s 
gods, whom I fancy she had never wholly forgotten, not to 
speak to any man by the way but to pass as a mute, for 
such in Siam and Cambodia are treated with peculiar 
respect. 

The incident of our meeting had been brought about by 
an injudicious display by the old man of a handful of gold 
— his all. 

Somehow the rough wood cutters gained the idea that he 
had more concealed and undertook to beat the poor girl 
until he should give it up. Luckily we saved her then and, 
as she told me afterward, she would have spoken but for 
fear that her father might be detained — the one thing they 
dreaded most. 

After that they toiled on, moving steadily northward, 
braving a thousand perils before they reached Thibet. Fur- 
thermore we learned that the reason we had not encountered 
them on our road was because they had approached the 
mountains by way of a town to the west of Zhad-uan. 

And yet, reader, if you could have seen Walla Benjow as 
I saw her that night in the guard house, in her Chinese 
dress with the dirty sheepskin wrapped about her, with her 


MIRRIKH. 133 

nose frozen and her large eyes red and inflamed from ex- 
cessive weeping, you would have wondered at it. 

At what? 

Well, here goes — I may as well make a clean breast of it. 
Remember I had seen her before and almost in pura 
naturalibus, I was in love with the China girl ” as the 
Doctor liked to call her — that was all. 

Walla! Walla! Ah! how much power the mere mention 
of your name had to move me then! But one word in self- 
justification and then on to other matters. Even the Rev. 
Philpot admitted that never in all his wanderings had he 
seen beauty equal to Walla Benjow’s, and that is saying a 
great deal. 

As for the character of the poor child I need only say 
here that she was all affection and most gentle in her man- 
ners. Still I never dreamed of the intensity of passion of 
which she was capable, and I am sure Maurice didn’t; fur- 
thermore — but I have said too much already. Let what 
remains develope itself. 

Ten o’clock that morning saw us on the road again! 
Walla accompanied us, of course, for we had promised to 
do what we could to send her on to her relatives in the 
Kuen-lun country. 

I remember how I fought against my feelings all that day. 
How amazed I was at myself for even permitting them to 
arise within me; I who had married and suffered; I who 
had sworn that no woman’s face should ever again cause me 
a minute’s thought. Do not be amazed when I confess the 
nature of those disturbing sentiments for the Doctor has 
already hinted at it. • 

Jealousy! Just think of it. I was jealous of Maurice. 

‘‘ Ha! ha!” sneered Philpot, as he caught me lodking toward 
them on one occasion when they were riding double on 
Maurice’s mule. ‘‘Ha! ha! You’re a fine philosopher, you 
are! Didn’t you tell me you’d had enough of the women? 
Can’t you see that those big eyes ain’t turning your way? 
Be as I am, man ! I wouldn’t waste a moment’s thought on 
the prettiest piece of femininity that ever stepped.” 

I turned on him then and administered a scathing rebuke. 
Heavens! I wished most devoutly I could echo his senti- 
ments before we saw the great gate that admitted us to the 
lamasery of Psam-dagong. 

It was just at sundown. The thermometer must have 


134 


MIRRIKH. 


been far below zero. We had enjoyed snow, rain, almost 
spring-like warmth and piercing cold all in the space of a 
few short days. 

For hours we had seen the lonely group of buildings 
standing before us on the foothills of a mountain chain 
whose height far exceeded the range we had just crossed. 

Nowhere else, not even in the Far West have I seen dis- 
tances so deceptive. In that clear atmosphere twenty miles 
is nothing to the eye. Take it all in all we accomplished 
the journey with surprising ease as I came to know later; 
nevertheless our sufferings were intense. 

Picture to yourself two broad ravines, one filled with 
large trees, the other horrible in its desolation, between 
which lay a narrow tongue of sloping land extending back 
toward the snow-clad peaks, which towered above us to 
stupendous heights. 

It was on this projection that the lamasery of Psam- 
dagong stood, a cluster of square, white dwellings, flat roofed, 
with one pretty tower a little off the centre, rising above 
them, gilded and glittering with a thousand colors in the 
setting sun. 

Once a famous shrine, the lamasery of Psam-dagong, about 
a century ago, became practically deserted, the Tale Lama 
at Lh’asa having so ordered it. Why this was I propose to 
explain in the chapters which follow, and need only add 
here that when I was at Psam-dagong it was little better 
than a mass of ruins, presided over by one old lama, of 
whom more anon. 

But I am rambling on about these matters which, though 
of the highest interest to us at the time, are really quite im- 
material in comparison with what follows. Let me break 
the spell by*recording the end of our long journey at once. 

Our ascent from the plains below was discovered by those 
in the lamasery, and upon reaching the gates we found our- 
selves challenged by a young lama of the yellow order, who 
bowed low before us. 

“ Peace be unto you, my lords lamas!’* he said, in that 
subdued tone which one sometimes observes among Catholic 
devotees, ‘‘ may your days be days of happiness and your 
nights be nights of peaceful sleep. What is your business 
at the holy house of Psam-dagong?” 

I do not know what answer Mr. Mirrikh made him, for 
he spoke in Hindustanee, and Ah Schow, who translated the 


MIRRIKH. 135 

lama^s greeting knowing nothing of that tongue, remained 
silent. 

Not that it matters. What is more to the point his answer 
was evidently acceptable, for the young lama threw the gates 
open and we rode into a wide enclosure. 

At last we were at Psam-dagong. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A PLANETARY MAUSOLEUM. 

Morning! Morning among the mountains! The rising 
sun gilds the snow-clad peaks of the lofty Himalayas, they 
throw back its rays like so many huge reflectors, the plain 
below us glitters as though strewn with gems. 

Standing in the embrasure of one of the tower windows 
of that ancient shrine of Buddha, I contemplated the scene 
in silent reverence. As the world’s natural Creator rose to 
view, I seemed seized with some measure of my friend 
Mirrikh’s enthusiasm, filled with the thought that it was but 
a reflection of the spiritual Creator of heaven and earth, 
whose existence in a less enthusiastic moment I would have 
denied. Instinctively I removed my hat and bowed my 
head before it, a mocking laugh echoing through the 
tower as I did so. The Doctor had caught me in the very 
act. 

Good! Very good, my bold agnostic! ” he exclaimed in 
his most sarcastic tones. So we have turned sun-worship- 
er, have we? What is there in the atmosphere of this strange 
land that transforms sensible fellows like my friend Wylde 
into soft-pated fools? ” 

I reddened, and only with difficulty restrained the lie 
which sprang to my lips. Something seemed to prevent me 
from denying the act, as I would have done. 

“ Pshaw! It was only a passing fancy. Doctor. I was 
thinking of sun-worshippers, I own, and I have the habit 
sometimes of acting out my thoughts.” 

Flimsy, ” he retorted. Wylde, your excuse is gauzy 
in the extreme, it won’t wash! You are tarred with the same 


136 


MIRRIKH. 


Stick as our friend De Veber. The next I shall hear you 
will be in the clutches of that precious humbug, Mirrikh, 
and fancy yourself on the road to Mars.” 

“ By the way, have you seen Maurice this morning?” I ask- 
ed anxiously, and not without good reason, for since we rose 
from the frugal meal spread by the young lama who had 
received us, I had seen nothing of Maurice. Mr. Mirrikh 
had taken him by the arm and departed immediately after 
our arrival. 

There had been trouble about Walla, also. 

The rule of the lamasery admitted no females. At Mr. 
Mirrikh’s earnest solicitation it had been disregarded, but 
poor Walla was conveyed away to some remote part of the 
great enclosure, and I had spent a sleepless night in con- 
sequence of it all, the Doctor and I occupying a small 
room together, lying in our blankets upon the hard stone 
floor, for even here I saw no sign of beds. 

“ No, I have not seen Maurice,” replied the Doctor, ‘‘and 
upon my word I begin seriously to wonder if we shall ever 
see him again.” 

“For God’s sake what have you learned?”! exclaimed, 
grasping his arm. 

“ Nothing, nothing! ” he replied hastily, and then speak- 
ing quite seriously for once, he continued: 

“ The fact is, Wylde, I like this business less than ever, 
and for the first time begin to feel serious alarm as to what 
may be our fate. Of course, so far as I am concerned, I 
have no one but myself to blame. I have traveled every- 
where; Thibet is an unknown land and I was anxious to 
see it. Moreover, I confess to you I had some curiosity 
to follow up our man of mystery and see the end of his 
preposterous claims; yet, now that I am here, I tremble 
for our safety. We are in a country governed by a rel- 
igious hierarchy of the most tyrannical description. Intel- 
ligent as these lamas are in some things, they are still but 
half savages. Let us suppose, for argument’s sake, that 
Mirrikh really possesses some occult knowledge of which 
the world is ignorant. Are we to witness the display of this 
knowledge and afterward be permitted to leave this place 
alive? ” 

“ God knows! ” 

“ Nobody knows but the powers which control this lam- 
asery. Don’t let the glamor of our strange journey throw 


MIRRIKH. 


137 


you back into the trammels of superstition. Speak as you 
believe, man, and say nobody knows.” 

‘‘ But what are we to do? ” 

“ God knows — plague on it! You see how catching it is. 
No matter though, your question brings me back to my 
object in seeking you. Come, Wylde, we are sent for, and, 
as our only safety lies in appearing to chime in with these 
people, we must respond at once.” 

Who has sent for us? ” 

‘‘ I cannot say. That young lama — the only one we have 
seen so far — came to me directly you got up from break- 
fast, before Ah Schow had cleared away, and told me to 
call you at once. I’ve had a great hunt for you, old fellow, 
until at last I thought of your predilection for towers and 
sunrises, and here I am.” 

And you saw no one on your way through the court- 
yard? ” 

“ Not a soul. How is it with you? ” 

Just the same. The place seems utterly deserted.” 

“ That’s what Ah Schow says. He slept in the stable 
with the mules, but, as you say, has not seen a soul.” 

It was certainly very mysterious. A vague sense of un- 
easiness oppressed me as I descended from the tower, and, in 
company with the Doctor, crossed the open courtyard with 
its flanking of low, white buildings, toward the door from 
which I had emerged. 

But let me pause a moment in description before I pro- 
ceed. 

The lamasery of Psam-dagong, as my memory serves me, 
must have covered a space a thousand feet on the line of 
the slope by perhaps five hundred feet across. 

Somewhere near the centre of this enclosure was the 
temple, which was but a small affair built of a greyish stone, 
with the tower into which I had penetrated unmolested 
separated from it; all around the sides, backed up against 
the high wall which surrounded the place, were low-roofed 
buildings of what I, as an American, should call adobe, 
dried mud whitewashed, really quite Mexican in their 
appearance; each had its door and single window made up 
of innumerable little panes of glass of fantastic shapes. 
Scattered through the enclosure were a few trees of enor- 
mous proportions and immense age evidently, but their 
species was quite unknown to me. 


MIRRIKH. 


138 

As we crossed this court the Doctor remarked on the 
general deserted aspect, and called my attention to the fact 
that I had previously noticed, namely, that up against the 
doors of almost all these detached buildings the snow lay 
banked. 

It was quite obvious that Psam-dagong was no densely 
populated lamasery such as the good Abbe Hue, the only 
explorer who has given us a substantial record of his 
Thibetan experiences, tells about. 

Afterward I came to know that ten souls were all those 
walls encompassed, but on that morning when the young 
lama conducted the Doctor and myself back across the 
court and into the temple, all was mystery, and I felt that 
the unknown lay before us. Since then, though years have 
passed, I can truthfully say that the happenings in the lama- 
sery of Psam-dagong are enveloped in a veil of mystery still. 
But to return. 

Through the low stone door way, above and about which 
wound a trailing dragon, carved in bold relief; through a 
dark and narrow passage, paved and musty smelling; 
through another door, and then into a large apartment, dim- 
ly lighted and shadowy, the ‘‘joss house,” the Doctor called 
it, for there was a huge gilded Buddha rising at the back 
with tall candles burning before the altar, which was laden 
with offerings of the faithful, gifts of the wild tribes of the 
adjacent mountains who, at certain seasons, seek the lam- 
asery to prostrate themselves before this image, the repre- 
sentative of their God. 

Now I do not know what I expected to find upon entering 
this place and still less am I able to record the Doctor’s 
thoughts. What we found was Maurice De Veber and the 
mysterious Mr. Mirrikh awaiting us. I beheld my friend 
with a sense of indescribable relief. 

They were standing upon the tesselated pavement before 
the image talking in low tones together, while beside them, 
upon his knees, with his head bent until it touched the pave- 
ment, crouched a man, wearing the yellow dress of the order 
which controlled this shrine, a man of great age evidently, 
for his features were as dried and wrinkled as a withered 
apple, and the ring of hair which surrounded his tonsure, 
snowy white. 

This is what I saw upon the occasion of ray first visit to 
the temple. 


MIRRIKH. 


139 


And while speaking of the temple I want to say that I 
never met with the slightest opposition on the part of the 
lamas to my penetrating any part of the shrine. If there 
exists any holy of holies at Psam-dagong I never discovered 
it. Though firmly set in their own belief, I invariably found 
the lamas most charitable toward the belief of others. They 
knew perfectly well what and who I was — there was never 
any secret made about it. I know that as a race the Thibet- 
ans have no wish to be exclusive; it is their Chinese masters 
who have built up and maintain the wall of mystery which 
surrounds this strange people — that the day is not far dis- 
tant when it will be broken down I believe as firmly as I do 
that the breaking will be of vast benefit to Thibet. 

No sooner had we crossed the threshold than Maurice 
rushed toward me with open arms. 

George! My dear fellow! How contemptibly shabby 
you must think me for deserting you!” he exclaimed, ** and 
I owe you an apology too. Doctor. The fact is, I ” 

He paused suddenly, for Mr. Mirrikh’s eye was upon him. 
I shuddered as I saw its steady gaze transform Maurice, for 
the moment at least, into a being as cold and emotionless 
as himself. 

Gentlemen, good morning,” said the adept, extending 
his hand to each of us in turn. “ Mr. De Veber, I must 
inform your friends of the object of this meeting. If we are 
to start for Mars at midnight there is no time to waste.” 

Why did I bear it thus tamely? Why did I not launch 
forth my real sentiments against that man? Why had I ever 
remained silent? Why was the Doctor as dumb as myself? 

God knows! All that I can say is that it was ever so 
from the first moment his will took that of Maurice De Veber 
under subjection. 

He seemed to know when we were about to speak, to read 
our thoughts and in a measure control them. While we were 
with him these things did not strike me as they strike me 
now. I look back in wonder and ask myself the why and 
the wherefore, but no answer comes. 

Now he checked Maurice in his intended communication, 
and equally we were checked in asking him further for it. 

Maurice drew his arm through mine and pressed it affec- 
tionately. As for Philpot, he stood there looking absolutely 
stupid. 

Such was the power of this man Mirrikh over minds sane 


140 


MIRRIKH. 


at the least. It was not the first time he had exercised it on 
mine nor was it to be the last. 

Just then the old lama before the altar arose and bowing 
low, speaking words of salutation not intelligible to me, 
approached the spot where we stood. 

Mirrikh took upon himself the ceremony of introduction 
and I am free to admit that he performed it in an entirely 
graceful way. 

Now we knew that this was the Lama Superior of Psam- 
dagong, Padma by name. According to Mr. Mirrikh his 
years numbered more than a hundred, nor do I doubt it; 
certainly he bore all the appearance of a man of unusual 
age. 

Children, I greet you. Welcome to Psam-dagong!’* 
he said in Hindustanee, and for the first time I heard that 
gentle voice which later I grew to love so well. 

There was something inexpressibly sweet in the old man’s 
very presence. A sphere of love, truth and purity seemed 
to surround him, yet to our eyes he looked simply a very old 
and ugly specimen of a Chinaman. 

I noticed, however, that Philpot was not affected by him 
as I was; while to me his presence was pleasing, the Doctor 
drew away his hand in ill-concealed disgust. 

Our adept saw it also and began in English immediately. 

‘‘Listen Mr. Wylde, and you too. Doctor;” he said, “the 
time has now come when we must have a definite under- 
standing. We are at what you may justly consider the most 
remote corner of the earth. We are here for a distinct pur- 
pose. I need not tell you what that purpose is.” 

“ We are here because we are fools ” the Doctor 

began, when he was suddenly checked by that same myste- 
rious influence which Mr. Mirrikh seemed to possess the 
power to exert by the mere raising of his hand. 

“ Argument being quite useless, I have determined to put 
a stop to it,” he said; “that I have power to do so you are 
probably both aware by this time. Wylde you shall do the 
talking in this matter. Doctor, I beg your pardon, but do 
you see that fine piece of carving above the Buddha?” 

Involuntarily the Doctor raised his eyes in the direction 
indicated, the adept with a movement of the hands quick as 
thought itself, making a pass before his face. 

After that the Doctor’s eyes were never lowered, never 
wavered a hair’s breadth until we were ready to leave the 


MIRRIKH. 


141 

shrine, and the will of our strange conductor removed the 
hypnotic spell. 

“ I am sorry, Mr. Wylde, to have to resort to such means,” 
he said, but time is precious, and you know what the 
Doctor is. I don’t even dare to allow you full freedom of 
mental action. I presume you perceive that your will is to 
a certain extent in subjection to influences over which you 
have no control.” 

‘‘I do,” I answered simply, wondering at the supreme 
quietude which seemed to have seized my soul. 

You attribute it to the action of my will, doubtless?” 

‘‘Ido.” 

“You are mistaken. Let me impart a truth. I am exer- 
cising no control over you whatever, nor am I over your 
friend Maurice, as you believe.” 

“ If not you, who then? ” 

“ Intelligences in whose existence you do not believe; the 
immortal souls of men once clothed with a material body 
like your own.” 

I found myself incapable of reply. 

Evidently he expected none, for he immediately continued: 

“ Have no fear. Nothing shall be done to injure you. 
As for De Veber, he consented to this step of his own free 
will. I am quite powerless to prevent him from carrying it 
out; indeed I have even urged him to withdraw.” 

“And I have refused, George, utterly refused;” spoke 
Maurice. “ I would not back out under any circumstances; 
I am going to Mars.” 

“You hear,” said the adept, “ and this is what our chance 
meeting at Panompin has done for our friend. Pity the 
spiritual side of your nature is a blank page, Mr. Wylde; 
were it otherwise I could tell you so much that would 
interest you.” 

“ George!” burst out Maurice, with something like his old 
enthusiasm; “it would amaze you. I am Wild with anxiety 
to see this experiment tried. I ) 

Again he suddenly paused ai^ was dumb, and yet Mirrikh 
never looked at him, but I thoughPL-s^w old Padma make 
a slight pass in his direction. Possibly this was imagination, 
for Padma could not have understood his words.” 

“You see,” said the adept, “they will not let him speak.” 

“ Who do you mean by they?” 


142 


MIRRIKH. 


The pitries — spirits as you call jthem. I employ the 
Hindu term/* 

I call them nothing, for I deny their existence.** 

“ Your denial of the world of causes falls flat with one 
whose vision is so constituted that he sees that world 
and its inhabitants all around you, as plainly as you see me.'* 

Meaning yourself?’* 

“ Meaning myself, of course.** 

“ I deny it utterly. I am willing to admit your powers as 
an adept; to allow that you understand Nature*s laws as I 
do not, but further than that I will not go.’* 

He smiled pityingly; a smile which at another time would 
have driven me furious but had no power to disturb me now. 

“ No, no; it is useless,** he said. ^‘Your Western minds 
cannot grasp it. A few to some slight extent are in the 
effort, and what is the result? Your scientists berate them 
furiously and dub them lunatics. Yet the time is at hand 
— close at hand.** 

“ The time for what?** 

The time, sir, when men shall know that there is a living 
God who through His spirit messengers rules the existences 
of His creations. Shallow thinkers, blinded by the vapor- 
ings of their own conceit, alone can teach a world without 
a Creator; a universe without an ever-existing primal cause. 
But come, enough has been said. What interests you is 
how I came from the planet Mars, or rather how I propose 
to return to it. Follow me now and you shall be told.** 

The spell was broken, I rubbed my eyes like a man 
awakened from a dream. 

He recalled the Doctor by a slight movement of the hand, 
and — but I cannot dwell upon this. Philpot assured me 
afterward that to him those moments were moments of 
utter oblivion, and that covers the ground. 

“ Lead the way, good Padma,** said Mr. Mirrikh in Hin- 
dustanee. 

The lama smiled in his gentle way; lighting a bronze 
lamp of antique pattern, he led us by a trap door be- 
hind the gilded Buddha, down a flight of stone steps to a 
large, square apartment under ground, a room which 
occupied the entire space of the temple walled up on all 
sides, save one, with stone. 

‘‘ This,*’ said the adept as we entered, is the gate through 
which we depart for Mars.’* 


MIRRIKH. 


143 


We did not discuss it, the Doctor and I — we could not. 

For the next half hour we were content to let Mr. Mirrikh 
do the talking, translating for the lama most of the time, 
for old Padma was acting as master of ceremonies. I be- 
lieve now that the adept rendered his words truly, although 
at the time I could scarcely credit it. 

It was a wonderful place, that underground chamber, and 
yet at first glance there was nothing to be seen except a 
huge, oblong block of marble as white as the snow above, 
occupying a central position on the stone floor. 

It was seven feet long and three feet four inches wide, 
in one side there was set a little door of solid gold; but for 
this it was an unbroken block. 

I have alluded to the three blank walls and hinted that 
the fourth was different. It was to this fourth wall that 
Padma directed our attention first. 

This was divided into square spaces and reminded me 
much of the public vaults in the cemeteries at New Orleans. 
Filling each space was a section of hard, polished wood — 
ligum-vitae, I think, at all events it was intensely black and 
very heavy — into which was fixed a bronze handle with a 
gilded Thibetan character above. There were eighty of 
these sections altogether, and space left for fully twice as 
many more. Padma, laying his withered hand upon one of 
the gilded characters, proceeded to explain. 

“ These, my children, are the resting places of the bodies 
of those souls who seek to visit us from the planets in our 
solar system. In former years when this lamasery was first 
consecrated for that holy purpose, we scarcely had three 
bodies in at a time, but now there are only two out. Ah, 
they care not for this world, these planetary spirits. It is 
inferior to all others of our system, so what wonder? Be- 
hold! 

He grasped one of the handles and pulled, seeming to 
exert more strength than I believed him capable of. Slow- 
ly an oblong box moved forward, working on stone rollers. 
One glance sent me back with a shudder, for there, reposing 
in the box, was a human body wrapped in cloth, swathed 
about like an Egyptian mummy. Only the head was vis- 
ible, and what startled me most was the face, which, though 
that of a middle-aged man, and by no means unhandsome, 
was of a color decidedly greenish, or perhaps I had better 
say greenish-yellow. If I had been told that it was the face 


144 


MIRRIKH. 


of a man who died of jaundice, I would have found it easier 
to believe than Padma’s next words. 

“ This, my children, is the body used by the dwellers on the 
planet Mercury, the character you see here imprinted indic- 
ates that fact; and here in this compartment we have one 
from the planet next nearest to the sun.” 

‘‘Thought Mercury was nearest the sun,” groaned the 
Doctor helplessly. 

Padma pulled the next handle above, returning the unfor- 
tunate Mercurian to his place. 

I looked again. Maurice, who still held my arm, dis- 
played the most intense eagerness as the coffin came out. 

“ I saw all this last night, George,” he whispered. “Ain’t 
it wonderful? What is there that man cannot accomplish 
after this?” 

“ What indeed?” I thought. “ If man can wipe out the 
vast distances of interplanetary space, who is to say that his 
ambition shall pause even there? That it shall not aspire to 
a similar extinction of the stupendous breaks between our 
solar system and its neighbors. Clearly nothing! The 
thought, however, was paralysing. Was I yielding to the in- 
fluences about me and becoming a believer in the claims of 
my friend Mirrikh? Not yet! 

But to the second coffin — I might almost say sarcophagus, 
for it was as heavy as stone. 

The adept had the lamp now, and he held it in such a 
manner that its light fell full upon the still, cold face before 
us. The heavily bearded features were of a deep bronze 
tint, verging toward that reddish patination which one some- 
times finds on the coins of ancient Greece and Rome. The 
nose was aquiline and very prominent, the mouth large and 
sensual, while the forehead was contracted in a curious man- 
ner, giving the head a pointed appearance, strongly remind- 
ing one of the heads on the mysterious monuments in the 
ruined palace at Palenque. 

“ Of this race we have admitted none for many years,” 
said the old lama quietly. “ They are a fierce and vicious 
people. The last that occupied this body wrought so much 
evil that our gracious lord, the Tale Lama, sent imperative 
orders that they should in future be prohibited from taking 
on the earthly form. 

He pushed the coffin back into place and moved to the 
next handle beyond. 


MIRRIKH. 145 

Now we were shown the body of a young man whose face 
was white and of surprising beauty. 

Saturn is the meaning of that character, friend Wylde,” 
said the adept, pointing to the gilded criss-cross of lines on 
this coffin. 

And each contains the body of a man from a different 
planet in our solar system? 

‘‘Yes, and no. Each contains a body inhabited at some 
time by a human soul whose dwelling place was on a differ- 
ent planet. These bodies, however, are entirely of this 
earth.” 

“ But how are they preserved? ” 

“ You shall soon knowl Let us finish our inspection 
first.” 

“I say, look here!” broke in the Doctor, “ how many 
planets do you make? There are coffins enough here to 
do the business ten times over.” 

‘•You forget the asteroids,” said the adept. “Besides, 
there is your own and other moons.” 

“ All inhabited? ” 

“ All inhabited or destined for inhabitants. God creates 
nothing in vain.” 

“This is madness! Driveling idiocy! ” Philpot murmured. 

No attention was paid to him, however. Our singular 
inspection went straight on. 

Coffin after coffin was opened. 

We were shown men from Venus, Jupiter, Uranus, Nep- 
tune, the asteroids, many moons, and other planets still 
further distant from the sun than the last named, for which 
our astronomers will ever search in vain. 

This is according to Mr. Mirrikh, of course. For my part 
I neither assent or deny. I simply record what happened. 

All were in human form. All were perfect men, and 
though all differed in appearance, the differences were no 
greater than those of men on this earth. 

One, said to be of our moon, was dwarfish with an enormous 
head and a great deal of black, shaggy hair. Another, in a 
box labeled ^Venus, was just the reverse, being of huge 
proportions with a face as black as a Jamaica negro, and 
cruel, repulsive features; but there were two from this planet, 
the other being a man of ordinary appearance and white. 

One thing I observed, namely, that the further removed 
from the sun the planet, the more refined and intellectual 


146 


MIRRIKH. 


appeared to be the face. I spoke of this to Mr. Mirrikh 
and his answer confirmed my observations. 

‘‘It is so,” he said; such is the rule. The sun is the 
centre of all planetary life, but it is at the circumference of 
every solar system that the highest intellectual development 
is found.” 

But there was one handle which the old lama had thus 
far left untouched. Odd, too, that not until now did I 
think of it. We had been shown no man from Mars. 

I moved forward and touched it. 

“And this — why was this one omitted?” I asked. 

The adept smiled and said something to the lama in Hin- 
dustanee. 

Approaching my side the old man pulled the coffin for- 
ward. It came easily and no wonder, for it was empty. 

“My place, gentlemen,” said Mr. Mirrikh, calmly; “thank 
God this body will soon be in it. This is for Mars!” 

But there was but one other empty. None of the planets, 
however, were unrepresented. The vacant coffin bore char- 
acters which the adept claimed indicated one of the asteriods, 
he could not speak its English name. 

“ And is the body which should fill it now animated by a 
soul and walking about this earth? ” I inquired. 

He answered that it was so. 

Impossible, indeed, will it be for those who may read this 
part of my narrative to comprehend the reluctance with 
which it has been penned. 

Believe it no one will, of course; but believe me when I 
say that had it been possible to have left it unwritten and 
still rendered intelligible that which is to follow, it would 
never have been told. 

It was over. We stood beside the altar; my friend Mirrikh 
had begun to speak. 

“ Mr. Wylde, after what you have seen you have an un- 
doubted right to the explanation which yours or any other 
intelligent mind will naturally demand. Here are your 
questions — I know them before they are uttered. The 
agent which is capable of producing this separation of the 
spiritual and the material, of the soul and the body; what is 
it? Is not that the first? ” 

“ It is,” I replied. “You have stated it correctly.” 

“You have seen those bodies — they are not phantasies — 
they are facts?” 


MIRRIKH. 


147 


‘^Either facts or I am hopelessly mad.” 

You are the same level headed American you were when 
I astonished you at Panompin, my friend. Now what you 
most wish to know is why those bodies do not follow the 
law of nature and decay? ” 

You have said it.” 

‘‘ And know you shall. Listen. You, in that truly liberal 
spirit which I have from the first admired; have been willing 
to admit the existence of natural forces of which your western 
science may be ignorant.” 

I have never denied the possibility of such forces.” 

‘‘No; more liberal than the so-called learned of your race 
you never have. Mr. Wylde you now stand face to face 
with the workings of just such a force. It is an invisible, 
imponderable gas; as elementary as oxygen, but utterly un- 
known outside of adept lore. This gas is generated under 
certain natural conditions within the earth itself, and is of 
such rare occurrence on this particular planet that the 
knowledge of its existence has hitherto been confined to the 
few. In fact it occurs in two places only, so far as is known, 
the cavern within which we are now standing being 
one. 

This aroused the Doctor whose dazed condition had 
scarcely changed. 

“You are speaking of the unknown and deadly gas men- 
tioned by Hue, as occurring in the valley of Bourhan-bota,” 
he exclaimed suddenly. 

“It is the same,” replied the adept. “That is the other 
place referred to; doubtless it is but another outlet for the 
same deposit — at least it is so believed. The good Abbe 
heard of it, but by the common people its peculiar properties 
are quite unknown. Whoever ventures near that valley 
dies to all appearance. In truth the unfortunate is in 
the same condition as those bodies we have just seen.” 

“ Alive?” I cried. “They cannot be alive?” 

“ They are not alive nor are they dead. They are the 
bodies of lamas who have inhaled the gas during the cen- 
turies the lamasery has been consecrated to this lofty pur- 
pose. The souls which left them to seek other planets have 
long since passed beyond the realm of matter into the realm 
of spirit — they will never return. Since then most of these 
bodies have many times been animated by other souls. One 
may be thus animated at any moment and spend years on 


148 


MIRRIKH. 


this earth, subject to all natural laws, you understand; even 
the inevitable law of death/' 

Should such a thing happen how would the soul make 
its presence in the body known? " 

‘‘Padma would know." 

‘‘ But how? " 

How did I know the girl was perishing in the snow that 
night? Mr. Wylde I think I have answered all your ques- 
tions now." 

But your answers only call up a thousand more," I ex- 
claimed. Why have these bodies not decayed? That still 
remains untold." 

Once this gas is inhaled the body never decays until it 
is buried in the earth — sometimes when certain chemical 
properties are lacking in the soil, not even then." 

“ Its name?" 

“In Hindustanee, Zambri." 

“Meaning nothing to me." 

“Of course not. How can it?" 

“ And once this gas is inhaled, the spirit can leave the 
body?" 

“ It must leave it in obedience to a natural law as inexor- 
able as that which brings a stone thrown upward back again 
to the ground. The spirit then seeks the point upon which 
its mind was last fixed, but it can return at will after a few 
hours have passed, for in that time the fumes of the gas lose 
their full effect; or, on the other hand, it can remain absent 
for years and still return. All rests with the will. The body 
will not decay unless the gas is either recombined or ex- 
pelled. Does this open your eyes? " 

“It opens a train of thought simply incomprehensible. 
But suppose the spirit wills to go to Mars, for instance, 
what — — " 

“ What will it do for a body there? " 

“You anticipate my question." 

“ I anticipate because you are treading on ground which 
I cannot permit you to enter. It is sufficient for you to 
know that you earth dwellers alone of all mankind are ignor- 
ant on this subject. On no planet in our solar system to 
which a spirit thus freed might project itself, are such trans- 
migrations not of common occurrence. The spirit is guided 
by God’s loving forethought, incarnated or disincarnated. 
A receptacle will be provided for it; once at its destination 


MIRRIKH. 


149 


it will walk that earth in a body precisely similar to the 
one it left behind — made so, in fact, by its own will.” 

“ And it would be otherwise were it to project itself to a 
distant point on this earth? ” 

“ Unfortunately, yes. The same conditions do not here 
obtain.” 

“ And does this explain the different appearances of these 
bodies? None of them resemble Thibetans.” 

^‘You have hit it. Originally all were Thibetans. They 
have been transfigured by the planetary spirits who in turn 
have occupied them. This act causes pain and takes time; 
therefore the bodies are kept separate ready for use of spirits 
from each inhabited earth or moon. I took this body just 
as I found when I came from Mars. You begin to under- 
stand? ” 

** My amazement only increases. Do not ask me to be- 
lieve.” 

It would be useless to expect it.” 

‘‘One question more.” 

“Ask it.” 

“ Why is all this kept a secret? Why is this place practi- 
cally abandoned? Why is not all the world made to share 
in this alleged wonderful knowledge? Why ” 

“Stop — stop! Don't multiply your questions so! Know, 
my friend, that he who pronounced a little knowledge a 
dangerous thing, was the very king of kings among philoso- 
phers. The adepts learned the truth of this maxim by sad 
experience. The secret was put to evil uses, and for excel- 
lent reasons Psam-dagong stands to-day the deserted shrine 
it is.” 

“And this is your great secret!” I cried. “This is the 
fate toward which you have been gradually drawing that 
innocent boy by your devilish arts! Could I admit the exis- 
tence of spirits at all, I ” 

“Stop, George! For God’s sake stop!” interposed Mau- 
rice. “ It is all my own doing, not his.” 

“You are mad, Maurice!” 

“ No, no! I have weighed all the consequences. I am 
going, George; you will wait for me and I shall return!” 

“ But these are the ravings of a lunatic! Be sensible, 
Maurice! Be yourself. These bodies are nothing but the 
Embalmed remains of poor fools, who, like ourselves, have 
been inveigled into this place for some hellish purpose be- 


MIRRIKH. 


150 

yond our comprehension. Delusion! delusion! What else 
can it be but delusion? Granted a soul, is it yet in the 
nature of things that such a journey could be accomplished. 
God help me! I shall hear next* that we can migrate to 
other planetary systems — that we can fly to the end of the 
universe ” 

Which,” interrupted the adept with that same im- 
measurable calmness, ‘‘has, like the God who made it, 
neither beginning nor end! ” 

“ I am the alpha and the omega! ” muttered the Doctor, 
“the beginning and the end! ” 

He was staring at us helplessly, picking a shred of cloth 
into little pieces. As he pronounced these words he began 
humming one of those grand old Gregorian chants which, 
no doubt, he had listened to in his own pulpit a thousand 
times. 

What ailed the man? 

I shuddered as I looked at him. He was worse even than 
before. 

The adept seemed to read my thoughts. 

“Don’t be alarmed. It is nothing,” he said. “It is 
necessary to keep his tongue still — that is all.” 

“ Hypnotized? ” 

“ If you like the term. The truth is he is controlled by a 
spirit, at my request.” 

“ God help us all! ” I murmured. “ I wish some spirit 
at my request would pick us up bodily and throw us in the 
middle of the Sahara, rather than we should stay one instant 
longer under your cursed influence, my heathen friend! ” 

But it was not to be that I could arouse his anger. 

As toward myself, truth compels me to say that the man 
never appeared different than the calm philosopher of 
the Nagkon Wat, nor did he outwardly toward Maurice. 
And, although God alone can read in their entirety the in- 
tentions of any man; although I may wrong the adept most 
grievously, I believed then, and I believe it still, that his was 
the will which drove Maurice forward to his fate. 


CHAPTER XV. 


ALIVE OR DEAD. 

• 

“ Granted for argument’s sake that it was all true,” 
said the Doctor; “ admitted that the stupendous claims of 
this man rest on a solid foundation; that the ravings of 
Swedenborg are cold facts; that the re-incarnation theories 
of Reynaud and Kardec have a leg to stand on; that spirits 
exist, invisible and intangible, bobbing about like so many 
shuttle cocks in the insuperable abysses of interplanetary 
space; admitting it all, even at the expense of making a pair 
of blooming idiots of ourselves, what are we going to do 
about it, George Wylde? That’s what I want to know.” 

And in very truth the Doctor had propounded a weightier 
question than any of the astounding propositions of my man 
Mirrikh. 

What were we going to do about it, sure enough? 

‘‘ We can’t pick Maurice up bodily and run away with 
him, don’t you know,” continued the Doctor. ^‘If the 
thing were possible why I’d be the first to do it, but the 
rub is, Maurice is a man and he won’t go.” 

And a very positive one, let me tell you.” 

“Aye! Don’t I know it? By the living Caesar! I pity 
him I never realized the power of this hypnotism business 
as I do now.” 

‘‘ You would, if you could have seen yourself. Doctor — 
you acted like a man clean gone with paresis.” 

“ Thank God I remember nothing at all about that part 
of it.” 

‘‘ But you saw the bodies — you heard our talk.” 

‘‘ In a half ^azed way, yes. It is all a blur in my mind, 
Wylde; like a dream a fellow wants to remember and can’t, 
don’t you know? Heavens and earth! If we could only 
get away from this infernal place. What do you say to you 
and me ” 

Don’t you suggest leaving Maurice!” I interrupted, 
frowning darkly. ‘‘ If you have any plan to propose which 
will rescue that poor boy from Mirrikh’s clutches, why out 
with it; otherwise ” 


152 


MIRRIKH. 


I paused abruptly, for a bell had sounded, a deep toned 
gong of enormous size which rested behind the gilded 
Buddha in the temple above us. Its clang sent a thrill of 
horror to my heart. 

Instantly five yellow forms sprang to their feet and ranged 
themselves about the white altar, for we were again in 
that subterranean mausoleum beneath the shrine. 

It was far on toward midnight; the day following our 
arrival at the lamasery was closing. Without, the cold was 
intense and the stars shining in that rarified atmosphere with 
a brilliancy of which few who read these lines can form the 
least idea. 

We had seen nothing of Maurice since we left the vault 
hours before, nor of Mr. Mirrikh, nor of the girl Walla; 
even old Padma had vanished, and the only person who we 
could discover was the young lama, Ni-fan-lu. We had 
pushed through the deserted houses in the court, prowled 
about the temple, and explored the tower. Locked doors 
we found, and these probably concealed the objects of our 
search, but we knocked here and there — pounded on them 
— waiting in vain for a reply. 

You see we had come back into the temple shortly after 
the termination of the conversation narrated in the previous 
chapter. 

The Doctor was himself again as soon as we had passed 
the image, where Ni-fan-lu awaited us. 

Be brave my friends! ” said the adept. Have patience 
to endure to the end. Think of what a glorious mission 
will then be yours, to father these stupendous and hitherto 
unknown truths!” 

Farewell, George!” added Maurice, wringing my hand. 
“ Doctor, all good go with you! Once again before I take 
the final leap we shall certainly meet.” 

I would have detained him, but I could not. 

Let me show myself in all my weakness, I wept, I plead- 
ed with him; by all the ties he held dear, I begged him to 
pause before it was too late. 

Useless — quite useless! 

Don’t be absurd, old fellow! What are we here for? ” 
was his only reply. 

It was not like him. Though he never displayed the 
affection for me that I had foolishly shown toward him, he 
had ever been considerate of my feelings. 


MIRRIKH. 


153 


But as he turned away and walked arm in arm with the 
adept through the dim interior of the shrine, amid armored 
gods and green and red dragons, I felt a strange calmness 
creep over me, and I simply stood there with the Doctor on 
one side and Ni-fan-lu on the other, watching them as they 
went out of sight. 

Night came on. 

Still it was the Doctor and I, with occasionally Ah Schow 
and always Ni-fan-lu, whose stupidity was as vast when he 
did not want to talk as was his shrewdness when he did. 
Poor Ah Schow, who really tried to do his best to draw 
some information out of him, particularly on the subject of 
Walla had given up long ago in despair. 

And so hour succeeded hour, until Ni-fan-lu, returning 
after a brief absence a little later than eleven o’clock, an- 
nounced that we were sent for and were to go to the temple 
at once, which proved to mean that horrible mausoleum 
beneath it, for it was thither he conducted us and here we were. 

Not a little to our surprise we found five yellow lamas 
seated upon the floor cross-legged as we entered. 

They bowed to us respectfully, bobbing their shaven 
heads like so many porcelain mandarins, but they did not 
speak. Ni-fan-lu made a sixth and stationed himself at the 
foot of the stone staircase. On the other side of the long 
room, lying in a dark corner, was what I then took to be 
a bundle of sheepskins thrown down carelessly; in fact it 
was not easy to get a clear view of anything, for the only 
light was that shed by the small bronze lamp resting on the 
altar, where I had seen old Padma place it after he closed 
the last of the coffin drawers, whose gilded hieroglyphics 
were now staring us out of countenance. Wondering what 
all this portended, the Doctor and I just resolved ourselves 
into a ways and means committee and stood there talking 
together in low tones, when all at once, clang! went the 
great gong in the temple above and I felt instinctively that 
the critical moment was at hand. 

‘‘Gad, George! It’s too late! We can do nothing!” ex- 
claimed the Doctor. “ The long and short of it is they’re 
going to sacrifice that poor wretch. It’s all a part of their 
devilish heathen dogmas — I know!” 

Alas for the narrow bigotry of our vaunted age of light! 
As if no poor wretch has ever been offered up as a sacrifice 
by the priests of Christ! 


154 


MIRRIKH. 


I shuddered, but made no answer. I was not my friend’s 
keeper. Mad or sane, he was a free agent according to his 
own statement, and I had no word of pleading or protest to 
offer which had not been already spoken. The die was cast. 
Maurice must go his own road. 

Now as I raised my eyes I saw him descending, and found 
myself lost in wonder at the calm, determined look which 
overspread his handsome face. 

First came old Padma, bearing in his hand an object 
which looked like a huge, golden ear-trumpet. Maurice 
followed, his black cloak trailing on the stones as he de- 
scended. Mr. Mirrikh came last, looking precisely as he 
always did. 

As they advanced, the yellow lamas arranged themselves 
on either side of the altar, three and three, for Ni-fan-lu 
now joined the others. The Doctor and I alone seemed 
out of place. Now Maurice saw us at last and breaking 
away rushed toward me. 

*‘Oh, George! My friend!” he burst out; ^St is only you 
who stands between me and the most supreme happiness 
at this moment! I feel so sorry for you, George!” 

I drew him aside and spoke for his ear alone; nor did any 
one show the slightest disposition to interfere. 

‘‘ Is there nothing that I can say to move you, my boy? 
I whispered, controlling myself to an extent I would not 
have believed possible a moment before. 

Nothing, old friend, nothing.” 

What has this man told you that you are holding back? 
What is it that gives you the courage to pursue this mad 
adventure to its end?” 

“ I cannot reveal it, George — I have sworn not to. One 
thing I will say though, and I want you to understand it 
definitely. I shall be back here inside of a month — he has 
promised it, and you, George, must promise me to wait.” 

“ Maurice,” I answered, pressing his hand most affection- 
ately, ** I swear to you that so long as your body remains in 
) the condition of the bodies in those boxes, I shall never 
leave it until I, myself, depart for that undiscovered coilntry 
from whose bourne no traveler returns.” 

“I knew it, old fellow! I knew it! But for you, George, 
I could not muster up the courage.” 

“ Not that I expect, if you persist in your purpose, ever 
to see your body reanimated,” I added sadly; but while 


MIRRIKH. 


155 


there is a doubt, I am with you. My belief is that unless 
you instantly exercise all the force of your will to throw off 
the glamor this man has cast over you, my dear boy, you are 
hopelessly lost.” 

*‘No, George, no! It cannot be. I am favored as never 
man was favored before — I am going to Mars and I shall 
return.” 

‘‘Maurice! Maurice! Will nothing arouse you?” 

“I don’t want to be aroused.” 

“There is just the trouble. You ” 

“Stop, George! This is all old ground, there is no profit 
for either of us in treading it again. Good-bye, old friend. 
God bless you! Good-bye!” 

He tore himself away, though I tried to stop him. The 
next I knew he was shaking hands with the Doctor and the 
man Mirrikh had hold of me. 

The instant his hand touched mine it was as though I had 
experienced a powerful electric shock. Through my brain 
some subtle magnetic current seemed darting — the same 
sensations shot down my back and into my legs and feet. I 
would have sprung toward Maurice, but to my horror found 
myself rooted to the floor with my eyes fixed upon his eyes 
and my tongue helpless; I could no longer speak. 

“Farewell, friend Wylde,” he said, pressing my hand 
warmly. “ Pardon me for rendering you powerless to de- 
feat our plans. I have left you your intelligence, however 
— you shall see us go!” 

I tried to speak — to curse him. Oh God! how hard I 
tried — how utterly I failed! 

“Do not fear!” he added. “I swear to you by God 
eternal that Maurice De Veber shall return!” 

Still I struggled — struggled with all the strength of my 
will — still I failed. 

Now he withdrew his hand and raised it theatrically; 
mine, released, falling helplessly to my side. 

“Write!” he said, a rapt expression overspreading his 
countenance. “Write and let the world know! Farewell, 
my friend! Farewell!” 

He moved toward the altar before which old Padma now 
knelt in silent prayer. 

My eyes followed him; though helpless physically, my 
brain was unaltered in its activity. 

An immeasurable passivity seemed to have settled over 


MIRRIKH. 


156 

me. No longer struggling, I watched with intense interest 
all that occurred. 

As for the Doctor I knew later that he was in precisely 
the same condition. As I saw him then he stood there like 
a statue, motionless and silent. Could either of us question 
the reality of the occult after this? 

For the space of a few moments all was silence. Maurice 
and the adept were kneeling at the altar by the lama’s side, 
evidently in prayer. 

Presently they arose and faced us. The critical moment 
had come at last. 

Now music soft, sweet and low, sounded through the 
subterranean chamber. It was produced by the six lamas; 
each held a small, one-stringed instrument, closely resembling 
the Chinese banjo, and as they struck the strings in concert 
it seemed to me that never had I heard such harmony — it 
was divine! 

Meanwhile, Padma had taken up the trumpet-shaped 
implement and having opened the little golden door in the 
side of the altar, pressed the flaring mouth against it. To 
my surprise it remained fixed in its position after a moment, 
as though held by suction. Instinctively I seemed to under- 
stand that the little door communicated with the cavern 
beneath the temple; that this was the means by which they 
were to inhale the mysterious gas. Once in place the golden 
tube stood up about as high as a man’s waist, and I saw 
that the end was plugged. All appeared to be in readi- 
ness now, and old Padma drew back, murmuring some 
unintelligible sentences — his eyes were turned toward the 
adept — he pointed toward the tube with a wave of his 
wrinkled hand. Again Mr. Mirrikh spoke. 

Maurice De Veber, think well before you take the 
final step,” he said in clear, distinct tones. “What your 
friends refuse to believe, you know to be the truth. No 
persuasion of mine has urged you to this act. Say the word 
and I start on my long journey alone.” 

There was no sign of wavering in Maurice’s voice as the 
answer came. 

“ I am going with you! ” he replied quietly. “ Do not 
let us prolong this painful scene.” 

“ It is enough,” said the adept. “ Friends, once more 
farewell! ” 

He stepped forward, bent over the tube, removed the 


MIRRIKH 


157 


plug, and fixing his mouth about the aperture drew three 
long, deep inhalations, after which he calmly restored the 
plug and stood aside. 

^‘It is your turn now,” he said. Have courage! Re- 
member, there is a good God above us all! ” 

Helpless! Oh pitying Father! Why was I so helpless? 
How gladly would I have risked my life to rush forward 
and drag Maurice from the fatal spot! 

Nor was I alone in my desire. Unknown to me there was 
present in that room another whose feelings were as intense 
as my own. 

She came with a rush. She dashed between the lamas, 
sending Padma reeling back against the altar. With her 
long, black hair streaming behind her, she prostrated herself 
at Maurice’s feet. 

“Ye gods!” I thought; “it is Walla!” For I now saw 
that what I had taken for the pile of sheepskins in the 
corner was none other than the girl whose life we had twice 
preserved. 

“ No! No! No! ” she cried, in tones so vehement that in 
spite of the spell which bound me I trembled. “ No! you 
shall not! You must not! I love you! Oh, God, how I 
love you! Save him! Save him! Let it be me instead! ” 

Jealousy — mad jealousy seized me. I thought less of 
Maurice than of Walla Benjow, then! She go! Never! I 
struggled with my helplessness, struggled fearfully, and I 
think I had almost won the victory when I saw that it was 
too late. 

Padma seized her. A few quick passes over that 
shapely head and the girl had ceased to rave. 

“ Meanwhile Maurice never said anything. I saw and 
understood the look of amazement which came over his 
face — he had not even dreamed of such a possibility as this. 

“ Be good to her, George! ” he called. “ Good bye again 
old fellow! Good bye! ” 

It was done! 

Unhesitatingly he removed the plug and inhaled the fatal 
gas! 

Loud twanged the strings, and the voices of the lamas 
burst forth into a wild chant. 

Vanished now was the power I had almost gained. Sight 
and hearing alone stood by me — I listened and looked — 
saw Mr. Mirrikh sinking slowly to the stone floor. 


MIRRIKH. 


158 

His eyes were closing, his face had assumed a deathly 
whiteness, and — oh God! Maurice was going down, too! 
In an instant both lay prostrate at the altar’s foot. 

Once I thought he looked toward me as the lids descend- 
ed; there was deep affection in the look — there was also 
supreme confidence that I would keep my word and stand 
by him to the last. 

Again my eyes were for him alone, but I think my brain 
must have been obscured, for I saw, or thought I saw, that 
the form of my friend was growing thin and shadowy, just 
as I had seen in the case of the adept in the alley at Pan- 
ompin. 

Was it this, or was it that a thin, white mist surrounded 
Maurice? It seemed to be gathering all about him — it was 
assuming the shape and outlines of a man. Presently it 
separated itself from the body entirely, rose up and stood 
above it, looking down. 

Now there were two Maurices! 

Wonderingly I sought the adept. 

It was the same with him, but that I had seen before. He 
stood above his own body a perfect man. 

‘‘ George, farewell! I am off for Mars!” spoke the old 
familiar voice as distinctly as I ever heard it speak; and I 
saw those shadowy forms rise together, slowly at first, then 
more rapidly, moving faster and faster, until 

Heavens! Was it then but a dream after all? 

I was quite myself again and standing close to the altar, 
upon which, cold and still, lay the body of Maurice De 
Veber, stretched out at full length. 

The light burned low, the music had ceased, the yellow 
lamas had vanished; I saw only Padma and the Doctor 
at my side. 

And Maurice? I had sworn never to leave that body! 
Was Maurice alive or dead? 


CHAPTER XVI. 


DIABLERIE. 

‘‘Shades of Paracelsus!” cried the Doctor. “If this 
ain’t the most amazing thing I ever saw? ” 

The Doctor stood on the opposite side of the altar look- 
ing at me. In spite of the vigor of his exclamation, he 
appeared to be calm and collected. I saw that he had 
pulled Maurice’s shirt open and was feeling about inside, 
trying to find the heart. 

“ Thank God you are yourself again,” I murmured. “ It’s 
all over now, I suppose.” 

“You mean with Maurice?” 

“Of course! Who else?” 

You forget, brother Wylde, that there still exists an in- 
dividual of the name of Philpot — besides, there is the girl 
and yourself.” 

“ Waste no words now, for heaven sake! Only tell me if 
he is dead.” 

“Just what I am trying to find out, my dear fellow. Be 
patient a moment and we shall see.” 

For fully ten minutes he labored, displaying, as he had 
done in the case of Walla’s father, a method in his work 
which bore out his claim to some medical skill. 

Anxiously absorbed, I watched, unable to turn my 
thoughts until at length he drew back and boldly pro- 
nounced his dictum. 

“It’s no use .talking, Wylde; Maurice is dead.” 

And the Doctor believed it — nor can I blame him. I 
often wonder how I had the hardihood to face him down as 
I did. 

“ It makes no difference what you or any one else say! ” 
I cried passionately. “ I will never leave that body until 
Nature sets her final seal upon it! Where’s the other one? 
Where is that scoundrel Mirrikh? What ” 

“Hush — sh!” he interposed. For God’s sake restrain 
yourself and remember that we are entirely at the mercy of 
these people. Look behind you — we are not alone.” 


jCo 


MIRRIKH. 


His words produced their effect, for they brought me to a 
realizing sense of the fact that if I meant to stay by Mau- 
rice I had to keep in the good graces of the powers which 
controlled the lamasery. There was Walla, too! Had I for- 
gotten her? 

Yes, Walla was there. When I looked around I saw her. 

She lay crouched all in a heap at the foot of the altar 
where she had first flung herself. 

In an instant I was at her side and strove to take her in 
my arms, but she repulsed me. Murmuring some broken 
words in an unknown tongue, she pushed me away. 

I staggered back and stared around the place. Again 
that strange magnetic current went darting through my 
brain. 

Behind her kneeled old Padma, turning a silver prayer 
wheel, its monotonous click ringing out sharply in the still- 
ness. The body of the adept, however, had disappeared. 

I passed my hand before my eyes as though that would 
banish the strange sensations which were oppressing me. I 
must be calm,” I reflected. I must restrain myself and 
act only for the best.” 

Oh Jerusalem! If I only had a smoke!’' groaned 
the Doctor. “ It might steady my nerves a bit. Would you 
think me a perfect ghoul if I felt in Maurice’s pocket for 
his tobacco bag, Wylde? There’s his flask, too.” 

“ There is no necessity. He gave both to me this morn- 
ing to give to you,” I answered, producing the articles in 
question. 

Laus Deo. The country is safe! Give me just one 
moment to fire up and I’ll argue with you for the rest of the 
night.” 

He filled the pipe with a hand which trembled visibly. 
He was badly shaken, no doubt of that, but he seemed to 
revive after a pull at the flask. 

Meanwhile I stood stroking back the curls from Maurice’s 
brow, dreaming. Picture after picture presented itself before 
me with a vividness that made me almost wonder why I 
doubted the sincerity of those who claim clairvoyant sight. 

I was back at Swatow. For an instant I even thought my 
wife stood before me, holding in her arms the babe we had 
buried on the other side of the globe. I was on the steamer 
— I saw Maurice, as I had first seen him; careless, gay and 
handsome. I was in the old consulate at Panompin — we 


MIRRIKH; 


l6l 


were discussing metaphysics. I was again the negative, he 
the positive. It was all his effort that I should be aroused 
from my lethargy, lifted out of myself! Then before me 
rose in all their massive sublimity, the triple towers of the 
Nagkon Wat. I saw the big Buddha of Ballambong. We 
were in the old tower storm-bound. Mifrikh — that horrible 
Mirrikh — was forming as a whitish cloud at my feet; when 
Suddenly — snap went the Doctor’s match; the flame flared 
up above the pipe bowl, and my visions vanished with the 
smoke. 

“Now I can talk,” said the Doctor, satisfiedly. “ Nothing 
like it when you are rattled. Wylde you have got us into a 
horrible mess.” 

“ I know it. I wish I might have died before I ever met 
Maurice.” 

“Oh, bosh! To the dogs with your sickly sentiment. I 
want to review the situation that we may get out of this 
infernal scrape if we can.” 

“I am listening.” 

“ First of all, do you know what was done with Mirrikh?” 

“ No.” 

“Ah! Then I am ahead of you there. Thought I was 
able to throw off their infernal magnetism first. I either 
dreamed it, or I saw the lamas put it in the empty coffin in 
the niche — the one he said it belonged in — the one marked 
for Mars.” 

“Oh this hypnotism!” I murmurmed. “Doctor, why 
could you not resist it? You, with all your boasted strength 
of will?” 

“Wylde, you were hypnotized, too.” 

“ I don’t deny it. But with your will it might ” 

“The devil! The smallest of them seem to have power 
over me. Hope that old crow Padma don’t understand 
what I am saying. Say, Wylde, did you see it all?” 

We compared notes for the space of at least ten minutes. 
Let me say briefly that all I saw, the Doctor saw, and more. 
He heard the voice, too, as it called that last farewell; and 
like myself, after that he seemed to lose consciousness com- 
pletely. Next he knew he was standing by the altar looking 
down upon Maurice’s body just as I had done. In short, 
his experience was the exact duplicate of mine with the ex- 
ception that he saw the adept’s body put in the coffin, 
and a few minor points. 


i 62 


MIRRIKH. 


I believe we might have kept on talking indefinitely, had 
not the sudden cessation of the clicking prayer wheel turned 
our attention to Padma, who was in the act of rising from 
his knees. 

Speak to him, Doctor!’' I whispered. ‘‘ Beg him to 
release that poor girl from the hypnotic influence. It 
breaks my heart to see her so.” 

The Doctor tried it in Hindustanee, and if I may believe 
his assertion, got along splendidly. 

“ It’s no use to interfere with his plans, George,” he said, 
after a moment. “ He says the girl is all right. He claims 
that she is a powerful sensitive, and more amazing than all 
he swears — what do you suppose?” 

‘‘ Don’t keep me in suspense, I beg of you. Doctor.” 

“ He says he is going to show us Maurice and Mr. Mirrikh 
in the astral body. We are to see them on their road 
to Mars.” 

‘‘In other words, he is going to hypnotize us again.” 

“ I’m afraid so, and by the living Caesar! if he tries it I’ll 
smash him. Hold on, George! What in thunder is he 
about? This reminds one strangely of the Black Art!” 

Pausing before Walla, Padma was tracing about her 
on the stone floor an imaginary circle, using for the purpose 
a slender brass rod, which he drew from beneath his cloak. 

He made no effort to disturb us; not even by those now 
dreaded mesmeric passes, but kept his eyes steadily fixed 
upon the stones, as he slowly walked three times about the 
girl, chanting in a low voice. 

Why did we not interfere? 

Do not ask me. We could not. Put it down to cowardice 
if you wish, but I hold the occult influences which seemed 
to pervade the place, responsible for it. We did not — that 
is enough. 

Now our whole attention seemed to concentrate itself on 
the old lama, with an intensity which banished all other 
thoughts. 

He moved away to a distant part of the room, and though 
I tried to follow him with my eyes, I found I could not, for 
they were closed as though by a hand drawn suddenly down 
over my forehead. I want it distinctly understood that I 
felt the touch of this hand — that it was real and no way the 
outgrowth of my imagination. The Doctor had the same 
experience, only he swore afterward that the hand which 


MIRRIKH. 


163 


closed his eyes was a child’s hand, and I know the one 
which touched me was big and rough — the hand of a full 
grown man. 

Suddenly our eyes opened of their own accord, and there 
was Padma before us again. He now held a large, oval bowl 
of solid gold, chased in curious pattern and filled to the 
brim with a liquid of the most intense black. It’s surface, 
as he set it down at Walla’s feet, instantly became as smooth 
as glass, and I could see the face of the girl reflected in it. 
I thought of Doctor Dee and his wonderful stone, of the 
magic mirrors of the Arabian Nights, and I thought I 
understood. 

‘‘ Say, Wylde,” whispered the Doctor; “I’ve been over 
this ground before in India. There’s something in it. 
You’ll see.” 

Once the bowl was in place, our eyes closed again. 

“ Wonderful! 

This time I felt the child’s hand, and the Doctor swore 
by all good and holy, that the hand which touched him was 
a man’s. Indeed he clapped his own hand to his head and 
tried to grasp it, but failed, of course. When our eyes next 
opened, there stood old Padma again with a small brazier, a 
bronze dish and a basket of charcoal at his side. Now who 
could longer doubt the diablerie of the whole affair? 

The old lama placed the brazier at some little distance 
from Walla, and stood the dish upon it, having previously 
lighted the coals beneath. 

So much did the brazier resemble the tripod of such com- 
mon occurrence upon ancient Greek coins, that I began 
wondering if it could by any possibility be a relic of the 
Bactrians. That it was from a Greek model there can be no 
doubt. 

By ^his time the Doctor was growing cool again; so much 
so that he ventured to question Padma about his prepara- 
tions. 

The old lama muttered a few words in reply, to me, of 
course, wholly unintelligible, and after that paid no further 
attention to either of us, but went straight on with his work. 

“ By Jove, he’s a good one!” said the Doctor. 

“ What does he say?” I whispered. 

“ Well, it amounted to telling me to mind my own busi- 
ness, George. He says if we keep still we shall see Maurice. 
Of course you understand that this is the black magic of the 


164 


MIRRIKH. 


East. It is simply a hallucination produced by the reflex 
action of a strong will upon a weaker one. All these prepa- 
rations are mere clap-trap. I saw the same thing at Benares 
some years ago.’* 

‘‘ You mean white magic, do you not? Black magic is 
turned against a man, not for his benefit.” 

“Bah! It’s all equally rubbish, black or white — but let 
us watch him. We may discover some part of the trick.” 

Watch! There was no need to urge me. I could not 
have taken my eyes off Padma had I tried. 

He had been blowing the coals while the Doctor was 
speaking, and now as they burst forth into flame he laid 
aside the little brass-backed bellows used for the purpose, 
and drew from beneath his loose robe a small box of beaten 
gold. This he opened and placed upon the altar in close 
proximity to Maurice’s head. It was a curious old affair, 
about four inches in length by three across, and an inch and 
a half deep, the top and sides were covered with cabalistic 
figures, beaten up in high relief. 

From this he took a small vial not unlike a homoeopathic 
medicine bottle, and removing the stopper flung its contents 
into the dish. Instantly a lambent flame shot up, resem- 
bling the flame of alcohol, which, for all I know, it may have 
been. Returning the bottle to the box the lama next took 
out a small packet, which proved to be a greyish powder 
wrapped up in Chinese rice paper. A little of this was also 
thrown into the dish, and immediately the flame changed 
from blue to an intense crimson. I thought then it was the 
strontium light, and but for the singular fact that during 
fully half an hour the flame continued to burn uninterrupted- 
ly without further addition either from the bottle or the 
packet, I might think so still.. 

“ That’s it! That’s it!” whispered the Doctor. “ Wait, 
Wylde! He’ll surprise you in a minute. Once you get your 
attention fixed on that flame he’ll make you believe you see 
your grandmother — you’ll see.” But not yet was I fascinat- 
ed by the flame. 

Now Padma moved toward us and with an imperious wave 
of the hand bade us follow him. 

He took us across the room to the side where the corpses 
were stored, seized one of the handles and pulled. 

Slowly the heavy box moved from its niche and we be- 
held the body of our adept lying within, swathed in white 


MIRRIKH. 


i6s 

just as were the others shown us the morning before. Only 
his face was visible; that never to be forgotten face, yellow 
above, black beneath. I can see it before me now with terri- 
ble distinctness, wearing that same calm, peaceful expression 
which under all circumstances it ever wore. The eyes were 
closed, and when I placed my hands upon it the flesh was 
icy cold. In all respects it resembled the face of a corpse. 

Closing the drawer, Padma now led us to the altar and 
pointed to Maurice. 

Touch the face/’ he said quietly, “ You will find it like 
the other — yet he lives! ” 

We both touched it. Here was the same clammy coldness, 
and my heart, which was beginning to feel a ray of hope, 
again sank in despair. 

Could I doubt that Maurice was dead ? Could I credit 
the aged lama’s claim ? 

Meanwhile the flame in the dish was blazing away as 
brightly as ever, shooting upward in slender tongues of crim- 
son light. 

Motioning for us to resume our places before the tripod, 
Padma stood over poor Walla and began making passes about 
her head. , 

Merciful God! How I inwardly cursed him! I was pow- 
erless to raise a finger to stop it or to speak a word, yet in 
all else I seemed entirely master of myself. Did my own 
curiosity as to what was to come, afford the lever by which 
my will was controlled? 

A moment or two of this, and then Padma was at the tri- 
pod again, bowing reverently before the flame. I saw his 
face touch it — I saw him actually kiss it. The tongues of 
fire shot up all about him, played through the fringe of snow 
white hair surrounding his tonsure, shot about his eyes, cov- 
ering his whole face in fact, and yet he was not burned. 

For several moments this continued, the Doctor pressing 
my arm in silent awe. 

Suddenly the lama straightened up again and moved back 
to Walla’s side. The girl, meanwhile, had never changed her 
position nor even raised her head. Taking her hands he 
placed them against the sides of the bowl which contained 
the black liquid and there they remained. 

Again flitting back before the tripod, the aged lama raised 
his voice in. solemn chant, his eyes fixed upon a small scroll 
which he had taken from the box and unrolled. 


i66 


MIRRIKH. 


Later we knew that this was written in the ancient Persian 
tongue, and as the Doctor was afterward permitted to copy 
it, I am fortunately able to give the translation here. 


** The sun ! the sun ! Creator I Lord, 

God, almighty ! Show thy face 
and let the earth rejoice. 

The moon ! the moon ! Child 

of the earth ! Storehouse of • 

magnetic forces whose face 

is forever hidden; bend 

thy malevolent gaze not 

upon us lest we, thy 

brethren, wither and die. 

Spirits of the heavens conjure ! 

Spirits of the earth conjure ! 

“ The stars ! the stars ! Suns, 

worlds, moons innumerable ! Oh east, 
where is thy beginning ? 

Oh west, where is thy 
ending ? North, thou art 
not. South, thou never wast. 

The comets ! the comets ! 
the flaming swords ! Mighty 
messengers from tfle 
Omnipotent ! Renewers 
of magnetic forces; from one 
thou takest that thou mayest 
give to another, equalizing all. 

Spirits of the heavens conjure ! 

Spirits of the earth conjure ! 

“ The earth ! the earth ! The 
sea ! The desert without 
water ! The rivers ! The 
mountains ! the lofty 
mountains ! the mountains 
of the east, the mountains 
of the west ! Stand 
not between us, oh thou 
mighty makers of many 
waters, for we would pursue a fleeting soul. 

Spirits of the heavens conjure ! 

Spirits of the earth conjure I 

He paused. Seizing the brazen rod he pointed down to 
to the surface of the black liquid in the dish which Walla’s 
shapely hands still clasped, seeming to trace upon its sur- 
face certain mystic signs. 


MIRRIKH. 


167 

It is finished!’* he cried. “May Buddha grant the 
spell all potency! May the spirits of heaven and earth rest 
with us! Behold!” 

He waved the rod aloft, its polished surface glittering as 
though studded with gems as it flashed before the crimson 
flame. 

“ Look! Look! ” cried the Doctor. “ For heaven’s sake! 
This is several pegs above anything I ever saw! ” 

But I had seen without his warning cry, for my eyes were 
following the end of the rod which old Padma was waving 
with a monotonous, rotary motion just above the flame. 

Slowly about the point of the rod a whitish mist had 
begun to gather. So thin and shadowy was it at first, that I 
thought I must be mistaken, that something had come be- 
fore my eyes; but presently it assumed consistency, taking 
an oval shape and seeming to bob up and down, always 
following the rotary movement of the rod. 

If I had not seen the same thing before, on that night 
when the body of the adept was brought into the inn, I 
might have taken it for smoke, but I had seen and I watched 
it with an interest most intense, suspecting what would 
come to pass. 

Suddenly out from this luminous cloud a hand shot 
forth — then another, and another. In a moment there 
were fully a dozen; some large, some small, some the puny 
hands of infancy, others the wrinkled, withered hands of 
old age. None were white; all having the yellowish tint of 
the Chinese or Thibetans. Certainly as far as human 
vision served me, the hands were real; and, stranger still, 
all were right hands. Call them the hands of spirits, and 
you will have to admit twelve individual forms behind 
them. Padma’s hands they could not have been. My at- 
tention seemed particularly drawn toward this point. I saw 
not a left hand among them — to that I stand ready to swear. 

Only for a moment they remained visible, but in that 
moment the index |inger of each hand was directed down- 
ward, pointing toward the dish. At last I saw them merge 
themselves seemingly with the cloud again — next, cloud and 
all had vanished, and the rod descended, until it, in turn, 
was pointed toward the dish. 

Suddenly the flame shot higher, yet I am certain that 
Padma made no effort to replenish the agents which had 
produced it, and which ought to have been long ago con- 


i68 


MIRRIKH. 


sumed. Higher, and higher still it rose, growing broader at 
the same time, until the whole room was as bright as day; 
and the strange part of it was, the flame now had lost some 
of its crimson tint and become whiter, more like an electric 
light. 

* The dish, Wylde! For God's sake keep your eyes on the 
dish, man! ** cried the Doctor. 

My eyes fell to the surface of the black liquid; it was as 
smooth and motionless as glass, and, in spite of its opacity, I 
found, to my amazement, that I could look into it to what 
seemed unfathomable depths. 

As I gazed no word was spoken; the Doctor's eyes were 
as firmly riveted as my own. 

I seemed to be looking off into immeasurable space, with 
the sun, as a huge fiery globe hanging above me, radiating 
its heat and light in mighty puffs, like some breathing mons- 
ter, and yet I was shivering with the very intensity of cold. 

Nor did the light of the molten orb seem to illuminate. 
It was as though I was in darkness looking at the light. I 
could see all the stars of heaven shining with surpassing 
brilliancy — all, did I say? No; not all. The planets were 
wanting among the others, they were with me. I seemed to 
be an atom floating helplessly among them. They were all 
whirling forward through space with incredible rapidity; it 
was like gazing at a huge orrery, for each planet was of pro- 
portions so prodigious that I felt they must be seen in their 
proper size. 

Mercury — aye, and the disputed Vulcan within its orbit — 
Venus, Mars, the Earth, asteroids by hundreds, mighty 
Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and even far off Neptune, all were 
there. Beyond Neptune rolled three others, enormous in 
their proportions; two of them had rings like Saturn, nor 
was there one among all the number unattended by its 
moon or moons. 

Now suddenly all vanished, and I saw nothing but the 
dish, the girl, old Padma and his rod, but yet the spell re- 
mained unbroken — my gaze was still transfixed. 

Again Padma moved his rod, and once more I was up- 
lifted among the spheres. 

Precisely what I had seen before I saw now, but I seemed 
to have assumed a different point of observation — I was 
between the earth and Mars! 

Now I saw them! 


MIRRIKH. 


169 


Of course I was hypnotized — of course it was but the 
action of old Padma’s will! Still I saw them — saw them 
with a distinctness fairly appaling. It was Maurice De 
Veber and the mysterious Mr. Mirrikh — they were floating 
through space, side by side. 

Nor were their forms dim and shadowy as I had seen . 
them last; on the contrary, they were clothed as black lam- 
as, precisely as they had been clothed when they stood at 
the altar’s foot, and they were to my vision as real and sub- 
stantial as myself. It was the same Maurice — the same 
Mirrikh, not altered one whit. 

They did not appear to see me, or to be moving of their 
own volition, but just carried forward like specks of floss 
before the summer breeze; yet their movements were not 
erratic, but, on the contrary, seemed to be directed toward 
one particular point, and that a huge globe of reddish hue, 
except at the poles, where I could detect vast fields of snow 
and ice. 

Now a singular change took place, for once my gaze was 
fastened upon those two moving figures no effort of my 
own will was sufficient to detach it. Whether I would, or 
whether I would not, still was I forced to follow on through 
realms of boundless space. 

Vast aeons of time seemed to have been accomplished. 
It was as though centuries had passed since we came to 
Psam-dagong, and still we traveled on. 

But not in vain! 

Oh no! We were approaching our destination. Mars 
was growing nearer now. 

Long ago it had ceased to look the shining object it had 
at first; and I knew that huge as the planets had seemed in 
my previous vision, their proportions were as nothing com- 
pared with the reality, for now Mars appeared larger than 
all rolled into one. 

Clouds began to form where previously I had not per- 
ceived them, and my vision was in a measure obscured, but 
only for a moment; before I knew it, I had penetrated the 
clouds, and the roundness of the earth beneath me was lost. 
Now it was as I fancy an aeronaut must feel when gazing 
down from a height a few thousand feet. 

“ Maurice! ” I shouted. Oh, Maurice, it is glorious! ” 

He did not seem to hear me, for he never turned his 
head, though I could perceive by the expression on his face 


MIRRIKH. 


170 

that he was fully alive to the beauties of the mighty panor- 
ama which was unrolling itself to my gaze. 

Mountains of vast height, stretches of dense forest, fertile 
plains through which rivers coursed; and then the seas, long 
land-locked gatherings of reddish water, extending as far as 
the eyes could reach; yet the prevailing color of the land 
was green, just as on our earth; but when wonderingl)/ I 
glanced back at the clouds behind me, I saw that they, like 
the water, were of a dull, red color, and it flashed upon me 
that I had solved a mighty problem which has preplexed 
the astronomers of every age. 

On, and still on! Nearer and nearer we approached the 
surface of the planet. We were descending upon a city 
beside which London is but an infant. I could see the 
people swarming through the streets. Here Mr. Mirrikh 
and his parti-colored face would be no novelty, for every 
face I saw was of the same mould, half black — half yellow; 
otherwise the people were like the dwellers on our earth 
except in the matter of dress, which was, with the men only a 
simple girdle of some dark cloth about the waist, while the 
women wore a loose gown of blue material, gathered in 
about the hips and thence dropping to the feet. 

So intent was I in watching them that thus far I had scarcely 
comprehended the fact that I felt interest in other things. 

Suddenly a voice seemed to speak in my ear, sounding 
like the voice of Mr. Mirrikh. 

“Look at the city, friend Wylde! Never mind the 
people.’* 

Strange that I had not thought of this before! 

Still I gazed, my eyes roaming here and there, each indi- 
vidual structure seeming to separate from the others and 
impress itself on my brain with incredible rapidity. 

Houses like ours they were not. For the most part they 
were low, square structures, ranged along broad streets, not 
close together, but with gardens between. I saw no build- 
ing of any elegance; no vehicles, no animals of any kind; 
no sign of market place, churches, shops or any sort of 
business. Suddenly in their roaming my eyes seemed to fix 
themselves upon one huge building which I can only com- 
pare with the Mormon tabernacle at Salt Lake City; it was 
of but one story, and covered an amazing extent of ground; 
just a vast, oval roof of snowy whiteness, supported on taste- 
fully carved columns, ornamented with birds, flowers and 


MIRRIKH. 


17I 


intertwining leaves. Without exaggeration I should place 
the longest dimension of this enclosure at a mile. 

Suddenly my gaze was drawn from it and I looked around 
for Maurice and his companion. To my horror I discovered 
that I had fallen behind. 

Then I saw them settling down toward the roof of this 
mighty temple; for an instant they rested there, and 
seemed to me to vanish through it as though it were nothing, 
and were gone. 

‘^Maurice! Maurice! Oh don’t leave me, my friend!”# 
I shouted, when, as with the wave of an enchanter’s wand, 
all had vanished and I was back in the chamber, staring 
into the inky blackness of the bowl, with the Doctor beside 
me, Walla at my feet and old Padma starting up with every 
expression of terror overspreading his wrinkled face. 

At the same instant a wild, piercing cry echoed through the 
enclosure, and following Padma’s gaze, I saw Ni-fan-lu come 
dashing down the stairs. 

Dshambi-nor!” he was shouting. “ Dshambi-nor!” 

Great God!” gasped the Doctor, seizing my arm with 
trembling hand; this is sorcery with a vengeance! I don’t 
know what you’ve been about, Wylde, but I have been to 
the planet Mars!” 

I could not answer him. Old Padma had his ear before 
I was able to speak, and was uttering hurried words. 

“Dshambi-nor! Dshambi-nor!” yelled Ni-fan-lu, as he 
came rushing up to us. 

“ For mercy sake, what is it? ” I gasped; a vague sense 
of uneasiness creeping over me, for I could read something 
of the truth on the Doctor’s face. 

“ Brace up, old man! Pull yourself together!” he an- 
swered hastily. “As near as I can make out we are in 
danger of flood. A lake has broken loose somewhere in 
the mountains behind the lamasery, and a few million gallons 
of ice water are about to be dumped upon us — that’s all!” 

By this time Ni-fan-lu was grovelling at Padma’s feet, 
repeating his cry. I flung myself toward the altar and , had 
one arm about Maurice’s body as it came. 

“ Dshambi-nor! Dshambi-nor! Dshambi-nor!” 


BOOK III. 


IN UNUM DUO. 


CHAPTER XVII. . 

A VISIT FROM MAURICE. 

Ah! with what different sensations one views the mighty 
events of life after the lapse of years. Happenings which at 
the time seemed most momentous have dwindled into 
insignificance; seeming calamities are known to have been 
blessings; mighty problems, then apparently impossible of 
solution, are now seen as but trifles to be easily brushed 
away. 

In some such way I look back upon my Thibetan experi- 
ences; but the time has not yet come when I can think 
calmly of the sight upon which my eyes rested as I gazed 
from the old, grey tower of the lamasery of Psam-dagong, 
when after that night of terror, the sunlight came at last. We 
were all there — all but Maurice. Where he was God alone 
could tell. The Doctor and I stood together looking over 
the parapet; old Padma paced up and down, grinding his 
infernal prayer wheel; Ni-fan-lu and his brother lamas were 
there with other prayer wheels; Ah Schow was there, taking 
in the situation with all the stoical indifference of his race. 
Walla Benjow was there also. She stood apart, white and 
silent, gazing upon the mighty sweep of water which sur- 
rounded the lamasery on every side. Thus it will be seen 
that the worst had happened and nothing remained for us 
but to bravely face the situation. Then, as never before, 
I admired the Doctor’s perfect self-possession. Though I 
knew the man to be utterly selfish, I now leaned upon him 
as a tower of strength, for he could talk to these strange 
people and I could not. 

‘‘ It is right about there the lake is, Wylde,” he said, point- 


MIRRIKH. 


173 


ing off at a gap in the mountain range which flanked the 
lamasery on the north. “ There are several of these lakes, 
Padma tells me, and it is the one nearest, which is also on 
the lowest level, that has broken away. Into this the upper 
lakes are pouring their contents steadily, and until they are 
drained off, the water will continue to rise. A hard frost 
may save us, but in the event of soft weather for the next 
forty-eight hours we shall be drowned out to a dead certainty. 
In fact there don’t seem to be much help for us anyhow, as 
the temperature has been on the rise since midnight, and if 
those clouds mean anything it is rain before noon.” 

You see the Doctor had been questioning Padma and 
now drew near to tell me the result. 

I saw the waters come. 

We were all at the top of the tower within five minutes 
after the startling cry which burst from the lips of Ni-fan-lu, 
as he came rushing down the stairs. 

When we first reached our point of observation I could 
see nothing which I had not seen already. 

There were the mountains, there at our feet lay the snow- 
white plains glistening in the moonlight; above us were more 
stars than I ever imagined the firmament contained previous 
to my entrance into this desolate land; and there, half way 
between the zenith and the snowy peaks, was Mars. 

Instinctively my gaze became riveted upon the planet. I 
forgot our danger; I heard not the Doctor’s violent excla- 
mations, I was deaf even to Walla’s weeping; I could think 
only of Maurice — Maurice and the man Mirrikh — of the 
mighty mystery in which I had become involved. 

Were they there? Were they actually there? Had I 
been there? Had I seen what I had seen, or was it all the 
outcome of the fearful strain to which my nervous system 
had been subjected? Perhaps it was hypnotism. Perhaps 
Padma to pacify me had made me see it? But no. There 
was the Doctor. He had seen it too. 

Thus I pondered as I gazed, the voices of the lamas 
sounding like the confused murmur of a distant crowd, when 
all at once a wild shout went up. 

‘‘Look! Look!” roared the Doctor, “there it comes! 
There it comes at last!” 

He caught my arm and pointed to the gap in the snow- 
clad range, which before had been but a dark blot upon the 
endless wall of white, and there I sawsomething flash; some- 


174 


MIRRIKH. 


thing of dazzling brilliancy upon which the moonbeams 
fell with silvery glare. 

Then all at once a mighty roar burst upon the stillness 
and I saw it rise higher — higher — yet higher! A torrent 
was rushing through the gap into the valley below. 

But the valley was invisible and as yet there was no water 
and a low range of foothills lay between us and the flood. 
Would it not be drained off by the valley? Would not the 
foothills form an effectual barrier of defence? I put these 
questions to the Doctor, and he put them to Padma, who 
answered — No!” 

There was no hope, it seemed; and then I learned the 
story of the lake, whose name, be it understood, was Dsham- 
bi; the “ nor ” being simply the Thibetan word for any large 
body of fresh water. To my surprise I found that it was 
not, properly speaking, a lake, but an artificial reservoir; or 
rather a series of reservoirs, the water being held in check 
by walls of masonry, the lowest one of which had now given 
way. These walls were built ages before, Padma said; in 
fact as near as I could make out he regarded the reservoirs 
as prehistoric, claiming for them an antiquity of more than 
ten thousand years. Of course, not being an archaeologist I 
do not pretend to judge of this, and will merely state that 
Padma further declared that the plains below Psam-dagong 
were once the seat of a vast population. He told of under- 
ground ruins beneath the sand, referred to a buried city 
whose wants these lakes had supplied; adding that the walls 
had long been in a highly dangerous condition, and that for 
this reason Psam-dagong lost its prestige and became practi- 
cally deserted, for pilgrims from the adjoining valleys feared 
to visit it, and without the offerings of the pious pilgrim no 
lamasery could live. 

We continued to watch; the moments creeping slowly on 
until the grey of dawn began to appear in the east. All 
this time we could see the water rushing down the awful 
precipice, foaming and tearing into the valley. In that tree- 
less region there was absolutely nothing to stay it, nothing in 
the least to interfere with its progress until it should reach 
Psam-dagong. 

And it came! 

At last I saw it trickling down the foothills; the valley 
behind was but a hollow, enclosed on all sides; this we knew 
must now be full. Faster and faster it came, but it came 


MIRRIKH. 


175 


Steadily; the foothills formed a dam of perhaps half a mile 
in length, over which the water soon began to descend 
with a continuous flow, filling the ravines on either side of 
the table upon which the lamasery stood, until now all land- 
marks had vanished and we were in the midst of water, 
flowing past us with noiseless but steady rush. Slowly it 
rose, but the rise was steady; as I gazed down over the 
parapet of the old tower I could see that it was almost on 
a level with the base of the lamasery walls. 

Meanwhile I had returned several times to the under- 
ground chamber to examine the condition of Maurice’s 
body. There was no change in its appearance. I could 
not think otherwise than that my friend was dead. 

‘‘We shall have to make the best of it,” I said, in response 
to the Doctor’s statement of the facts of the situation. 
“ Did you learn from Padma what we most particularly 
wanted to know? ” 

“ About the means of escape? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ I asked him.” 

“ Well, what did he say? ” 

“ He said to tell you that you need be under no alarm, 
that there are secrets connected with Psam-dagong of which 
Ni-fan-lu and the other lamas know nothing, that there is 
no danger whatever of our perishing in the flood.” 

“Well, upon my word, why couldn’t you say so before! 
If there is hope why not let me have it? It is not kind. 
Doctor, to keep me in suspense at a time like this.” 

“ Why, to tell the truth, I do not altogether believe him,” 
said the Doctor. “ I questioned the old fellow sharply, and 
it is my belief he’s a blessed falsifier. I could not make 
head or tail of what he said.” 

“ But what was the drift of it? Does he expect the water 
to fall?” 

“No; not under any circumstances until the lakes are 
empty. He says the lamasery will surely be overwhelmed — • 
perhaps swept away.” 

“My God! You don’t mean it! Poor Maurice! What 
is to be done? ” 

“ Poor Maurice! It’s rather poor me, poor you! Mau- 
rice is dead. When he committed suicide — and if ever a 
man in this world committed suicide Maurice did it — I 
washed my hands of all responsibility concerning him. 


MIRRIKH. 


176 

This mad business has turned out exactly as I predicted.” 

Stop a moment! Confine yourself to facts. Of course 
you had no more idea than I what turn affairs would take, 
you could not have had. When you told me you had been 
to Mars did you mean it, or ” 

“ Or did I lie? Spit it right out, Wylde. No; I did not 
lie. I meant it at the time, but it was all imagination — 
hypnotism if you like — infernal black magic, I call it. Of 
course we have no more been to Mars than we have to the 
moon, nor has Maurice any such existence as you and I 
imagined while we were in that strange condition. Maurice 
is dead — dead beyond recall!” 

But to get back to the subject,” I answered coldly. 
“There is no use in discussing that matter any further.” 

“ Returning to our muttons, then, all I’ve got to say is 
that I don’t believe Padma has any more idea of the way to 
escape than we have. There is no boat at the lamasery, 
nor anything to make one out of. Besides these trees in the 
courtyard, I doubt if there is ten feet of lumber in the whole 
establishment. Even allowing there was, where could we 
go? We should be landed on the plains below here and 
left fo freeze or starve to death, for we could not transport 
mules, of course, and no human being could travel through 
this country on foot as things are now; so you see — oh, 
Padma is speaking! He has ground his everlasting prayer 
to a finish. Let us see what he wants.” 

The announcement of the old priest was simply that 
breakfast would be served in half an hour, and that we 
should be notified when it was ready if we preferred to 
remain on the tower and watch the progress of the flood. 
As I looked I perceived that most of the lamas had left us, 
and that Walla also had vanished. 

“ Have no fears. This accident was foreseen long ago 
and the emergency fully provided for,” the old priest said, 
as he left us to descend the stairs. 

But the Doctor felt no such confidence, nor did 1. 

“ I am going back to Maurice,” I said, after Padma had 
departed. “ I shall never leave him. Either some means 
must be found of transporting that body, or I remain be- 
hind.” 

“ If you attempt to carry out that resolve you are a big- 
ger fool than I think you,” answered the Doctor. “ Upon 
my word I should rather think you’d bp looking after that 


MIRRIKH. 


177 


girl a bit. You have the field all to yourself, now that 
Maurice is out of the way. " 

To this I made no other answer than to leave him 
abruptly, for aside from the coarseness of the insinuation, 
the Doctor's remark grated upon my nerves horribly, for a 
reason which I must now explain. 

I no longer loved Walla — that is if I had ever loved her. 

Rather should I say that the girl’s face no longer pro- 
duced those singular sensations with which I had for days 
been tormented. 

Why was this? 

I did not know. 

The fact is I had been a puzzle to myself since the first 
day I met the man Mirrikh. 

The change came with the return to consciousness after 
the real, or imaginary, trip made with Maurice and Mirrikh 
through the spheres. From that moment the face of 
Walla Benjow seemed to grow absolutely repulsive to me. 
I wondered how I ever could have thought it beautiful, I 
saw it now as I had never seen it, and could see in it noth- 
ing more than in the faces of thousands of native women 
upon whom I had looked since I came to Farther India. 
I was disgusted with myself beyond measure for having 
looked at it in any other light. 

Was this jealousy? 

Was it because Walla in that last awful moment before 
Maurice took the fatal step declared her love for my 
friend? 

Then I was foolish enough, ignorant enough of the heart's 
most holy affection, to believe this? 

Ah! I do not think so now. 

But a sense of duty prompted me to seek the girl and 
give her such hopeful assurances as I could. I sought her in 
vain, however, nor did I see Walla again until after break- 
fast, which was served to the Doctor and myself alone, as 
usual, Padma having come for me in the vault to which I 
had returned, insisting by signs in his gentle way that I 
must eat. 

During the meal I controlled my anxiety as best I could, 
and we discussed the situation in all its bearings. 

We could see no hope outside of Padma. 

After breakfast we ascended to the top of the tower again. 

The water was now approaching the lamasery walls, with 


178 


MIRRIKH. 


a much higher temperature and every appearance of rain. 

Meanwhile the lamas seemed to have recovered from 
their fright and were hurrying hither and thither with great 
bags on their backs, popping in at one door and out at 
another. They were carrying the treasures of the lamasery 
into an underground vault, with the hope that after the 
flood subsided they could return and claim them. Already 
the temple was stripped of its magnificance. I had seen all 
this going on when last I descended to the chamber where 
the body of my poor friend lay. 

‘‘ I think I shall stay here and smoke a pipe,** said the 
Doctor. “ I wish to watch the progress of this affair, beside 
which I have an appointment with Padma. He promised 
to return in an hour and fully explain the means by which 
we are to escape.** 

“ Stay by all means,** I replied. “ I shall descend again 
and try to find Walla. It is very singular what has become 
of the girl.** 

We had inquired for her, of course, but could get no sat- 
isfaction; before ascending the tower stairs I dispatched 
Ah Schow to look her up, and now, when I came out into 
the courtyard, I saw her standing beneath the big tree with 
a face so white that my heart melted. I hurried forward 
and seized her hand. 

^ So you have come at last! ** I exclaimed. ‘‘ Where have 
you been? We have looked everywhere for you.** 

She stared dully. 

“ I have been with him,** she answered. ‘‘ I saw you, but 
you did not see me.** 

** Do you mean with Maurice? Surely you were not in the 
underground chamber?’* 

‘‘Yes.** 

“ But where? ** 

“ I was on the other side of the altar, upon the floor. Oh, 
my friend, tell me — what does it all mean? ’* 

“Why, don’t you comprehend it yet?** I said rather 
testily. “ There is a flood; the water ** 

“ Of course I understand that. It is not of that I am 
speaking, I mean about him.** 

“ Maurice? ** 

“Yes. Tell me — why did they kill him? I cannot under- 
stand.*’ 

How dull she seemed. How strangely she spoke. As if 


MIRRIKH. 


179 


she did not know! I said as much, and in no very pleasant 
manner either, but she did not seem to understand even yet. 

‘‘ Of all that happened in that vault I remember nothing,’* 
she said. They have done something to me — what is it? 
My head don’t seem to be right.” 

I questioned her further. To me it seemed incredible 
that she should forget her mad rush toward Maurice, her 
earnest pleading that he should not take the fatal step. 

But she assured me that she did not remember, nor could 
she account for her time between our arrival at the lamas- 
ery and the moment I saw her in the corner of the under- 
ground chamber. Her mind seemed to be in a most extra- 
ordinary condition. The more I questioned her, the more 
confused she became. 

Then suddenly she broke out with a low, wailing cry and 
began lamenting Maurice. 

She seemed to think they had killed him, that they had 
offered him up as a sacrifice. In this strange mood she 
showed an intensity of passion of which I had not believed 
her capable, and confessed her love for Maurice in the 
most emphatic terms. 

Altogether our interview was a most peculiar one, and 
decidedly painful for me, for I was utterly at a loss to make 
her comprehend the situation. 

Kill me! Kill me, Mr. Wylde! Let me go to him! ” she 
wailed. “ I loved him! Oh, how I loved him! He did not 
know it! His eyes were never for me; but you — oh, how I 
hated you! I — ah God! What is this?” 

Suddenly clapping both hands about her head Walla 
stood before me reeling like a person intoxicated; her eyes 
closed, the lids began to twitch violently, her face grew 
whiter still. 

Suddenly this paroxysm seemed to pass, and her hands 
fell to her sides, and for some minutes, she remained as 
white and rigid as a standing corpse. 

Now it need scarcely be said that I was much disturbed 
by all this, but when I tried to speak, something seemed to 
have palsied my tongue. 

Suddenly the expression of her face changed, and to my 
amazement I felt rushing upon me all that love for this 
strange creature which I had previously experienced. I 
could have caught her in my arms, but she waved me back 
and spoke in tones wholly unlike her own. 


i8o 


MIRRIKH. 


‘‘ Not now my beloved; not now mine other self! The 
veil between the world of matter and the world of spirit still 
separates us. Have patience, George. Yet a little while 
and you will have crossed the border. Then to all eternity 
shall we live as one! 

What was this? 

What did it mean? 

Every drop of blood in my veins seemed suddenly to 
have been transformed to liquid fire. 

Love! 

I swear that no man ever experienced such love as I felt 
for Walla Benjow then, and yet I could not even bear to 
think of my former folly ten minutes before. 

“ Walla! Oh Walla!” I breathed. What is this? What 
spell is it that you have the power to cast over me? Tell me — ” 

“ Stay ! ” she murmured. It is time that you knew 
something of the truth. I am not Walla Benjow. This 
land is not as your land. There the power, yes the very 
existence of such as I is denied. George Wylde, I am a 
spirit. I hold this woman in control. It is I you have 
loved — not Walla. To you she is nothing, but I am your 
soul’s companion. Have no fear. This trial will pass. 
Now I must leave you, for your friend would speak.” 

It was a hard blow to my scepticism, yet I was not ignor- 
ant of the claims of a class of persons whom, until now, I 
had looked upon as arrant charlatans. I allude, of course, 
to the trance mediums of modern Spiritualism. I had 
never seen any of their work, but I had read of it, and now 
the recollection of what I had read recurred to my mind. 

Then I saw Walla’s face change again — saw a shudder 
pass through her frame — was thanking my stars that the 
Doctor was not present, when suddenly I was startled by 
hearing her exclaim in a totally different voice with much 
more of the masculine about it: 

Hello, George!” 

I started back as though stung. 

It was not Maurice’s voice, that is certain; yet there was 
something about it which so strangely resembled his voice 
as to be positively startling. 

I thought of Maurice on the instant, although I positively 
declare that when “my friend” was alluded to a moment 
previous it never entered my mind that it bore reference 
to him. 


MIRRIKH. 


l8l 


‘‘Don’t you know me?” asked the voice. “I want you 
to understand, old fellow, that I still live.” 

“ Maurice?” I gasped. 

“Yes, Maurice.” 

“ For Heaven’s sake ” 

“No. Not for heaven’s sake, for your sake! It is an 
awful bother for me to do this, but I am partly selfish in it, 
and Mirrikh is helping me out. I want to say two things 
to you, George, and I want you to understand that it is 
Maurice De Veber, and no one else, who talks to you — do 
you hear? ” 

“Say on! I hear, but I think I’m going mad!” 

“Mad! Not a bit of it! You are the same clear headed 
fellow you always were; you are simply dealing with forces 
and conditions which you don’t understand — that is all.” 

“And you?” 

“ I am right here with you.” 

“ I cannot believe it.” 

“Believe it or not it is a fact, George; but no more. I 
cannot hold this medium any longer without injuring her. 
What I want to say is this: Watch my body, for as sure as 
there is a God in heaven I shall return to you. Beware of 
the Doctor. He will play you false.” 

“ Maurice! “ Maurice!” I cried. “You have my promise. 
So long as your body remains as it is, so long will I guard 
it. Maurice! Speak again! Tell me ” 

I stopped abruptly. 

Again the shudder passed over Walla; her eyes opened; 
she stood there blinking stupidly. 

“ What — what is the matter? ” she gasped. “ What have 
you been doing to me, Mr. Wylde? ” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

GONE — WHERE? 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong! 

The lamasery bell was tolling— tolling the funeral knell 
of a shrine which for all I know • stood as we see it now in 
the day’s of Gladstone’s Juventus Mundi; for the world 
when young in Europe was very old in Asia. God alone 


i 82 


MIRRIKH. 


could tell if the tottering old structure would endure the 
strain to which it was about to be subjected. 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong! 

I could think only of the big bell at the gate of Green- 
wood cemetery, tolling as it tolled on that chill October day 
when I consigned my baby boy to the dust. 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong! 

I could see my wife weeping and protesting that she 
wanted to die also; begging me to bury her along with the 
child, when at that very time she - 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong! 

Ring out, old bell! Ring out your loudest peal and 
drown these memories forever! If the teachings of this 
strange land are truth, then may they indeed be forgotten ; 
for not only does the boy still live, but there- awaits me in 
that land, where we know each other as we are, one whose 
heart will beat in perfect accord with my heart's beatings: 
whose soul shall know no thought, no longing that is not in 
harmony with my own! 

Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong! 

Still the bell kept tolling. Why, I did not know; but this 
much was certain — our time at Psam-dagong was growing 
short, for the waters had risen almost to the top of the lam- 
asery wall and the rain was falling in torrents. 

‘‘ Come, George,” said the Doctor, calling me from the 
temple doorway. ^‘Come. Padma wants you; he is going 
to show us the road by which we are to escape!” 

The sound of the Doctor’s voice banished the strange 
spell which had come upon me. At the same moment the 
bell upon which Ni-fan-lu had been banging away for more 
than an hour suddenly ceased to toll. I hurried across 
the courtyard to the temple door. 

It was late in the afternoon — the afteri oon following the 
bursting of the Dshambi-nor. Long ago Walla and I had 
parted, she to crouch before the altar where lay Maurice’s 
body, I to wander hither and thither, pondering, doubting, 
wondering, fearing! God knows I could make nothing of 
it. The only wonder is I did not go raving mad. 

Now I would say to myself that I was mad; that Maurice 
was dead; that the proper thing for me was to immolate 
myself on that same altar- and make an end of it all. Again 
I was in reverie, and in fancy saw myself floating through 
the spheres, seeking the voice which through Walla’s lips 


MIRRIKH. 


183 

had spoken those words of cheer. Still again I was execra- 
ting Walla for her subtle power of fascination, calling her a 
fraud and cursing myself for a fool. But I had not told the 
Doctor what happened in the courtyard beneath the big tree, 
and I did not tell him now as I followed him into the 
temple, where we found old Padma waiting for us before the 
big Buddha, looking as patriarchal and serene as ever. 

With his usual self-assurance Philpot began rattling away, 
assuming that patronizing manner which I had grown to 
dislike so much. 

Look here, George, Pve been having a long talk with 
Padma,*’ he said as we passed through the temple. As 
near as I can understand, this whole region is undermined 
with vast caverns; we are to pass through these caverns by 
some means which I can’t make out and are to fetch up at 
another lamasery close to Lh’asa. You see I’ve been 
busy while you’ve been moping about.” 

“ It makes no difference to me where we go,” I replied, 
providing we take Maurice’s body with us. Without that 
I shall not stir.” 

Oh that will be all right. I spoke to Padma, and he 
seemed surprised that there should be any question about 
it. If it is any comfort to you to know it, he scouts the idea 
of Maurice being dead; says he is as sure to come back as 
the sun is to rise.” 

“ I shall fulfill my promise in any event,” I replied. “So 
long as Maurice’s body remains as those other bodies are 
down there, I shall never leave it, even if it costs me my life.” 

“ Well, by Jove! You’re a friend worth having; but — 
wait! Padma wants to speak.” 

What was the old priest saying? I would have given any- 
thing to have been able to understand. 

As it was I could only follow them down into the under- 
ground chamber again, where we found Walla beside Mau- 
rice, a sight which aroused feelings amounting almost to 
jealous hatred within me. She could stay there where I 
felt that I ought to stay; yet to save me I could not do it, 
for to stand gazing at those still, white features drove me 
almost mad. 

There was no change in the appearance of the face. I 
took one good look at it as I passed the altar, following 
Padma over to the side of the chamber opposite to the 
stone drawers containing the alleged planetary corpses. 


184 


MIRRIKH. 


Still talking to the Doctor, in his slow, mild fashion, Padma 
drew from beneath his robe a huge bronze key which he 
proceeded to fit into a hole in the stone. Turning this 
he gave the wall a push and a narrow section of the stone 
moved back revealing a dark opening behind. He caught 
up a lamp which he had placed behind him on the floor, 
flashed it into the opening and I saw, extending down from 
it, a broad sheet of polished brass, pitched at a sharp angle, 
above which was a wheel and a rope. I could not imagine 
what all this meant until the Doctor began to explain. 

Padma says that this inclined plane leads into another 
cavern miles and miles away, Wylde,” he said hurriedly. 
‘‘ There is a car of some sort attached to the rope and we 
are to be let down in it. From the cavern to Lh’asa the 
distance is short and the way easy. We are to leave at 
midnight, providing the water holds off that long. By that 
time they will have all the treasures of the lamasery safely 
stored away. See! He is pulling the car up now.” 

Padma had seized the rope and was pulling it over the 
wheel. I perceived at once that it was old and worn and 
many of the strands had parted. I looked at the priest’s 
face and saw the expression of calm serenity leave it and 
something like fear assume its place. Suddenly he ceased 
to pull and began talking hurriedly with the Doctor who 
gave one sharp exclamation and turned to me, his counte- 
nance as pale as death. 

Bad news, George! The rope is all worn out. It hasn’t 
been used in many years and can’t possibly take the car 
down more than once or twice.” 

‘‘ Then our fate depends upon the size of the car?” 

^‘Precisely.” 

‘‘Ask him how big it is? Let us know the worst!” 

He turned to Padma and put the question, but instead of 
replying the priest began tugging at the rope again. In a 
rnoment a rumbling sound was heard and I saw a small box- 
like arrangement come into view; it rested close down upon 
the brass and seemed to run upon rollers which were invis- 
ible. I have neglected to mention that there was a bronze 
guard about six inches high on either side of the incline to 
prevent the car from running off. 

“ By Jove! We’re fixed now!” cried the Doctor. “It’s 
barely big enough for two!” 

We knew the worst in a moment. 


MIRRIKH. 


185 

Flashing his light upward at the wheel, Padma, having 
first made the rope fast to a hook, climbed into the car and 
began a careful examination. 

The Doctor was very uneasy. 

“ George, it’s my opinion the old guy means to go down 
and save himself,” he whispered. Let’s grab him and you 
and I go. He told me just how to manage the machine and 
it’s as easy as rolling off a log.” 

“ No, no! There are other lives to be saved besides our 
own.” 

“ To the dogs with the others! What are we to do? ” 

But how about Maurice? ” 

‘‘ Maurice is dead. We have ourselves to think of. We 
can’t be sacrified for a corpse.” 

Unless Maurice’s body leaves this place I remain and 
take my chances,” I said coldly. 

‘‘But this is madness! A man’s life is all he has in this 
world, and ” 

“And I am beginning to believe in the existence of 
another where for our deeds, good or evil, we shall be held 
in strict account. 

“Bah! Leave preaching to me; it’s my business, not 
yours! We can easily overcome the old fellow and take our 
chances in the car. I tell you the lamasery is doomed! 
There is no earthly show for us unless we do it. Have 
common sense and listen to me. If you don’t want to 
attack Padma now, we can hang around here and do it 
later on.” 

“ Neither sooner or later, without Maurice.” 

“ But we cannot take the body. There is barely room for 
you and me to crowd into the car.” 

Here we were interrupted by Padma, who stepped out of 
the car and began speaking again. His face had assumed 
its wonted expression of calmness, yet when the Doctor 
came to translate I found that the situation was fully as 
critical as he had feared. 

He declared that there was very little chance of the rope 
taking the car safely even one trip down into the cavern, 
but he calmly assured the Doctor that this need not matter, 
for there still existed another means of escape. 

At this point the Doctor turned to listen again. For 
some moments Padma spoke earnestly and then left us, 
ascending the stairs. Not until the sound of his footsteps 


MIRRIKH. 


1 86 

died away did the Doctor deign to answer me, although I 
had twice addressed him, begging to know what the priest 
had said. 

“ Do you want to know?” he exclaimed, turning suddenly 
upon me, and speaking very rapidly. “ He tells me that 
this other way lies through the cavern beneath the temple, 
where the fatal gas is stored. He says that it was built ages 
ago before the gas came and abandoned because it came; 
he says all we’ve got to do is to inhale the gas, and go at 
lightning speed by way of the spirit world, sending our 
bodies down through the cavern and taking them up again 
at the other end of the route. I tell you, Wylde, it’s all 
balderdash. The fellow is a sly old rascal. He is trying to 
throw us off the scent and means to go by the car himself, 
leaving us to be drowned out here when the water comes. 
Now then, here’s the last call. Will you go with me, or 
will you not? ” 

Not without Maurice.” 

“Fool!” 

“ Put it as you will.” 

“ I put it as it is. Think twice.” 

“No! Doctor beware! No good can come of so selfish 
a proceeding. Remember that the rope may hold out. 
Would you deprive these other poor wretches of their 
chance of life? ” 

“ Rubbish! What are they to me? Let them go the 
other way if they want to, I — hark! What was that? A cry 
above! By the eternal! I believe the water has come.” 

We hurried up into the temple, for the Doctor suddenly 
ceased his argument. 

It was as he had feared. 

When we reached the courtyard we found the lamas 
standing in the pouring rain, huddled together beneath the 
big tree, their eyes fixed upon the wall surrounding the lam- 
asery, over which the water was beginning to come in little 
splashes here and there. 

“Better get your grip, George!” cried the Doctor.” If 
we do escape we shall need it. Go now and I will have a 
look over the wall. I shall do nothing until you return.” 

There was reason in his suggestion, and relying upon his 
promise I hurried into the lamasery. Not only did I want 
to save something of my belongings if possible, but I was 


MIRRIKH. 187 

anxious to find Ah Schow and give him warning, for I could 
see nothing of the faithful fellow in the yard. 

I was gone perhaps ten minutes; time for the most part 
spent in search of the Chinaman, whom I found at last in 
the big room where our meals had been served. Hastily I 
told him of the danger and together we returned to the yard. 

Here the situation had changed but little, except that in- 
stead of coming by splashes the water was now running over 
the wall in places in steady streams. 

But where was the Doctor? 

To my surprise I could see nothing of him, nor was old 
Padma visible. Beneath the big tree the lamas stood in si- 
lence, showing not the slightest emotion, each grinding 
away at his own private prayer wheel, the united clicks of 
the different wheels making the most infernal din. At once 
the truth flashed upon me. The Doctor had availed him- 
self of my absence to carry his purpose into effect. 

I knew it — I was sure of it — I felt as certain of it as 
though I had seen him go. 

Then I felt furious with the fellow, but now as I look 
back upon that trying hour, I do not know that I so much 
blame him. 

As he viewed the situation it was a question of life or 
death. He had given me my chance — I had refused to take 
it — he disposed of me for the moment to save further argu- 
ment and had started on that strange journey alone. 

Without pausing an instant I rushed into the temple, 
bounded around the big Buddha and down the stone stairs. 

How deathly still the chamber was! How ghastly looked 
poor Maurice’s face as I flew past the altar beside which 
Walla, with bowed head still crouched, as white and silent 
as Maurice himself. 

I rushed across to the stone door which still stood open. 
It was as I had supposed. The car was no longer there. 

“ Selfish pig!” I burst out. “ If he has gone to his death 
he richly deserves it, yet upon my word I would scarcely 
have had the courage — merciful God!” 

You see I caught up the lamp as I approached the open- 
ing, and flashing it in saw that no more of the rope was 
visible than a dangling end, with broken strands hanging 
down over the wheel. 

Taking advantage of my absence the Doctor had gone — 
gone where ? 


CHAPTER XIX. 


I INHALE THE FATAL GAS. 

It was the sound of many footsteps which recalled me to 
myself, for the shock of that broken rope proved almost too 
much for my already overstrained nerves. Turning I be- 
held the lamas of Psam-dagong approaching in solemn pro- 
cession with Padma at their head, while Ah Schow, carrying 
my neglected grip, brought up the rear, looking as stoical 
and indifferent as though nothing unusual had occurred. 

If his Joss wanted Ah Schow, his Joss would take him; if 
not he would escape even though the world were in flames. 

Such was our Chinaman’s way of looking at the matter, 
and it was a highly comforting one — there is no doubt about 
that. 

I pulled myself together as best I could, and advancing 
to meet them pointed toward the entrance to that strange 
incline, at the same time calling to Ah Schow to come for- 
ward and act as interpreter between Padma and myself. 

But there was no excitement about the matter. 

Padma seemed to view the Doctor’s act as one of simple 
folly. Fortunately for me I found no difficulty in talking 
to him through Ah Schow. 

‘‘ We could not have gone by the car in any event, my son.” 
he said. This affair has all been settled. We go by the 
way of the world of spirit. By his selfishness your friend 
has doubtless gone to his death, while we most surely shall 
be saved.” 

“ Is there no chance that he still lives ? ” I asked. 

‘‘ How can I tell ? I have not passed over that road for 
many years. Since the days of my boyhood it has been 
against the orders of our spiritual master, the most holy 
Tale Lama, that this road should be used except in such an 
emergency as this. I know not where the rope parted or 
how; but let us not discuss the matter further. What is 
done is done. We have now to think ourselves. Watch 
well and follow us in what we are about to do, and by Bud- 


MIRRIKH. 


189 


dha*s grace, not a hair of your head shall be harmed.” 

‘‘ And my friend here ? ” I asked, waving my hand 
toward the altar. 

He thought that I referred to Walla and replied that she 
should be cared for equally with myself; when I made him 
understand that it was Maurice, he actually smiled. 

“ Why need you concern yourself about him ? Already 
his soul is separated from the material covering. We have 
but to send that down by the way our bodies are to go. 
He will never know until it pleases Buddha to send him 
back to the material again.” 

He ceased to address me with this, and out came those in- 
fernal prayer wheels again and the grinding of a petition, of 
a quarter of an hour’s length began. 

While this was in progress I made my last visit to the 
courtyard. Being in Rome I resolved to do precisely as the 
Romans did, but I wanted one more look at daylight — 
moreover I was curiously anxious to know how the water 
stood. 

When I reached the temple I found the floor covered to 
the depth of half an inch. 

Now the temple floor was raised about three feet above 
the yard level, an(i the platform behind the statue where 
the stairs began, perhaps as much more. 

I waded through the icy water, and gaining the door, 
peered out into the courtyard. 

There was absolutely no hope. The water was now 
pouring ower the wall on all sides. It would have taken a 
boat to reach the big tree. 

Back in the underground chamber again, I placed my- 
self beside Maurice and waited for the clicking prayer 
wheels to cease, feeling a sense of calm assurance difficult to 
explain. 

Just then Walla aroused from her lethargy, and tottering 
to her feet questioned me as to the situation, which I ex- 
plained as well as I could. 

She said but little; seeming to take it for granted that 
nothing could be done to change matters. 

'' Do they take him? ’’ she asked after a moment. 

‘‘ Yes.” 

Then I shall go too.” 

** You will have to go or drown.” 

She smiled sadly. 


190 


MIRRIKH. 


“ If I thought he would never return I should stay and 
drown/* 

“ You love him so? ** 

‘‘ I love him — yes. I never knew what it was to love till 
now. I could die for his sake. I can live and suffer if it 
will help to bring him back.’* 

“ Poor child! He will have no thought of you even 
should he return.** 

She shot toward me a glance so malignant that I was 
amazed. I should have carried the discussion further, but 
just then the prayer wheels ceased their click. Padma 
bent down about ten feet away from the altar, and I saw a 
large trap door raised. 

I would have pressed forward to see what this meant, but 
Padma’s eyes caught my movement and he waved me 
back; the lamas silently formed themselves into a half 
circle about the altar and stood like so many statues, while 
the priest, putting a small paper roll into his wheel, ground 
the prayer to a finish, wasting five precious seconds, for it 
was but a question of a very short time now when the- water 
must come pouring down the stone steps. 

Presently the prayer wheel stopped whirling, and a box 
containing “joss sticks” was passed around. 

Each lama shook out the sticks, seized the one which fell 
nearest the altar and carefully examined the characters 
printed upon it. I wondered what they were doing and 
beckoned Ah Schow to approach. 

“ Dat for las’ man,” explained our cook. “ He no can 
go — he die.” 

Suddenly a shout went up and I saw a young lama rise 
from the floor with face as white as death. He did not 
speak, however, nor did any of his companions. He had 
drawn the fatal character, whatever it might have been, and 
I must do the fellow justice and say that he submitted like 
a true man. 

Padma now called me and pointed into the open trap. 
There was no car here, nothing but a square, inclined box, 
or shute, made of hard-baked clay, polished on the bottom 
and sides as smooth as glass. 

“ This my son,” explained the priest, Ah Schow interpret- 
ing, “was constructed ages before the lamasery was built; for 
know that this shrine stands upon the site of one almost 
as old as the world itself. It leads to the cavern, passing 


MIRRIKH. 


I9I 

directly through that other cavern where lurks the gas. 
Since your friend has cut off the other road, this is our only 
hope. We shall inhale the gas one by one, sending the 
bodies through this opening. Is it your wish to accompany 
us, or do you fear? 

“ I fear, but I shall go,** I answered. ** That is providing 
my friend ** 

‘‘ That is already settled, my son. Explain to the sister.** 
“ I have explained.** 

** And your servant? ** 

‘‘Understands as well as I have the power to make him; 
but tell me father, the lama who drew the fatal lot — must he 
die? ** 

“ He must, my son. Who is to put his body into the 
opening? He cannot do it himself after inhaling the gas.** 

“ Cannot your spirit friends assist? ** 

The priest shook his head. 

“ Under certain circumstances that might be done, but it 
needs a harmony of thought, a calmness of soul, to enable 
them to take on the power which we are not able to furnish 
under such circumstances as these.** 

“ One question more — the bodies in the boxes? Those 
planetary corpses — are they to be left behind? ’* 

“We cannot take them. It is impossible. We have 
scarcely time to save ourselves.** 

“ Then souls from the planets can never visit this earth 
again? ** 

“ Never in these bodies, my son. Psam-dagong is 
doomed.** 

“ And there is no other channel of communication? ” 

“ None that I am aware of; none known to the followers 
of Buddha. I cannot answer for the rest of the world. But 
time presses. A beginning must be made.*’ 

He ceased to speak, and approaching the altar opened 
the little door in its side and arranged the golden tube as it 
had been before. 

“ Ni-fan-lu!** he called. 

Ni-fan-lu stepped forward. His face was pale, but he 
was entirely calm. 

Padma in loud and distinct tones spoke a few hurried 
words, whereupon the lamas all bowed profoundly, their 
hands crossed upon their breasts. He then laid his own 
hand upon the plug and Ni-fan-lu bent down, fixed his 


192 


MIRRIKH. 


mouth to the tube, and with long, deep inhalations drew in 
the gas. 

Suddenly he straightened up — I wondered how he knew 
when to do it — and Padma quickly restored the plug. 

With that strange sense of quiescence still upon me, I 
watched the face of the young lama and saw pass over it the 
same change of expression which I had noted upon the face 
of Mr. Mirrikh and Maurice. Suddenly he reeled, pressed 
his hand to his heart, staggered back a step or two, and sank 
to the floor. 

Again Padma spoke. 

Instantly two lamas seized Ni-fan-lu and carrying him 
to the open trap thrust him down, head first, into the shute. 

I darted forward and saw the body disappear like a flash. 
I knew then what my fate was to be, and yet to save me I 
could not stir up the slightest feeling of fear. 

‘‘ We will now send down the body of your friend,*' said 
Padma. ‘‘By the time it has made the Journey Ni-fan-lu 
will be ready to receive it, for I have instructed him to take 
on his material body instantly, and not wander away into 
the spirit world.” 

I simply bowed assent, for I was fully prepared for this; 
but Walla, the instant the lamas approached the altar, gave 
a fearful shriek and flung herself across poor Maurice. 

“Come! Come!” I exclaimed. “We cannot have this. 
Calm yourself! It must be done.” 

But she only screamed the louder, and I was wondering 
what means could be taken to quiet her, for she struck at 
the lamas with her clenched fists, and even tried to bite one 
of them, when suddenly Padma, who had slipped around in 
front of the altar, began making passes about her head. 

Poor Walla! 

It was but an instant before she was in the clutches of 
the hypnotic spell. Her struggles ceased; she straightened 
up and fixed her eyes on Padma, wholly subject to his will. 

“ We will send her first,** said the priest. “ Since she 
fancies she loves him let her be there to receive his body.” 

He addressed a few hurried words to Walla who immedi- 
ately bent down over the golden tube. 

Padma was already there to attend to her. The plug was 
removed and the gas inhaled. In this case there was not 
even a momentary resistance. Walla sank to the floor and 
was instantly seized. They tied a cord about her skirts to 


MIRRIKH. 


193 


keep them close, and without emotion I stood calmly by 
and saw the girl whom but yesterday I thought I loved, 
thrust headlong down into those unknown depths. 

Positively I began to be alarmed at myself my sensibili- 
ties had become so dulled; but just as I was giving way to 
these feelings, it seemed to me that a hand was pressed 
against my forehead with feathery lightness, while a voice 
whispered: 

George, my boy, be brave — be calm. I am with you. 
Do not fear.'* 

Was it imagination, or was it real ? 

Was it all an emanation from my own mind and memory, or 
was it actually the hand of some bright spirit hovering near ? 

I do not know any better now than I knew then; but this 
much I do know, the voice was the voice of my mother, and 
the sense of her dear presence so strong that her face 
seemed somehow to mix itself up with the face of Walla as 
they took her away. I can no more explain this than I can 
explain Maurice’s voice and Maurice’s individuality speak- 
ing through the girl’s lips. All I can say is that if Walla was 
a mystery in those trying hours, I was rapidly becoming a 
greater mystery to myself. 

Now all this came to me and was gone in a minute; the 
next and the lamas were at the altar working over Maurice’s 
body. 

I did not attempt to interfere; nor, though I felt deeply 
moved to do it, could I make any demonstration over the 
body. Somehow it no longer seemed as if this was Maurice. 
As the lamas bore it to the trap I found myself muttering: 
‘‘Maurice is not here! Maurice is not here! Maurice is 
in Mars!” And I kept saying it over and over again, una- 
ble to check myself, until suddenly the lamas at the trap 
rose up and I knew that Maurice’s bodily form had followed 
the ones which had gone before. 

I sprang to the trap furious with myself for not having 
been there to see it go; amazed that I could have stood 
aside mumbling like a parrot while they took my friend 
away. Padma’s hand was on my arm before I reached it, 
however, and his gentle voice calmed my excitement. 

“ No, my son do not look,” he said; “it will only alarm 
you and can do no good. By this time Ni-fan-lu is surely 
ready to receive you. Let me advise you to make the 
descent next. It will be better so.” 


194 


MIRRIKH. 


But I hesitated and drew back. 

As you will/’ said the venerable Buddhist with calm 
indifference; ‘‘ but before you decide, look behind — I am 
not selfish in thus urging — look at the stairs.” 

I turned and saw how wisely he had spoken. There was 
a tiny stream trickling over the edge of the topmost step, 
spattering in silvery drops upon the stone floor below. 

“The water!” I exclaimed. “ It has come!” 

“ Even so, my son! It is as you say — the water has come!” 

Fancy Ah Schow standing between us, interpreting with 
no more show of emotion than a post! In a Chinaman we 
call this blind belief in fatality? Perhaps it is; but were an 
Englishman, a Frenchman, aye, or an American, to do the 
same, he would lay claim to courage with a mighty deal of 
clatter, no matter what his private belief regarding a future 
state might be. 

“ Spiritual father!” I cried, bestowing upon the old lama 
the title by which his flock invariably addressed him,” let 
me ask you, what must be the nature of my thoughts 
during the strange journey I am about to make? Would it 
not be better for you to go first that your assistance might be 
given to the wandering souls seeking their bodies at the 
other end of the passage? How am I to find my way? ” 

“ My son, you have no need of my assistance,” he an- 
swered. “ Nor will I leave this place until the last of my 
lamas has departed save the one whom Buddha has called 
unto himself. If death comes to me, it will be welcome. As 
for your other question, know that where your thoughts are 
there your spiritual presence must ever be. So long as the 
life cord is unbroken your soul must seek your material body 
when you will it to do so. Beware then lest you will it too 
soon, for I know not what breaks time may have made in 
the passage; should you return and inhale an over-supply 
of the gas all the power of your will could not preserve you 
from death. Then indeed would the cord be broken and 
you enter the realm of spirit to remain until the will of Bud- 
dha calls you to earth again.” 

“ But how shall I know? What sense will tell me of the 
proper time ? ” 

“Why, my son, your senses remain with you — not an 
atom of your personality is lost. You can, if you wish, fol- 
low your body every inch of the way. There will be no 
such difficulties as you fear.” 


MlkRlKH. 195 

But Walla — the girl — her senses are no longer in her 
control! What of her?” 

“ They are in mine, my son; and at the proper moment I 
shall restore them to her. She will safely reach her jour- 
ney's end.” 

“ But the distance — what is it? ” 

** It is great. I cannot express it so that you will under- 
stand. It is many, many miles, as you would say.” 

Will she have reached the end of her journey before you 
enter the passage? ” 

“You mean before my body enters? Possibly not; but 
that will make no difference. My body is not myself. Once 
my spirit is unchained it can operate far more readily than 
at present. But time presses; see, the water stream grows 
larger. Either you must go or another — choose!” 

“ I will go,” I replied boldly. “ My determination is 
taken. Even though there were no danger I would still go, 
I cannot remain here alone.” 

“ Well spoken, my son. The danger, however, all lies in 
remaining. Come forward, bend before the tube and put 
your lips upon it. Fix your mind upon your body; will to 
remain near it and all the powers of heaven and earth can- 
not keep you from it, for the will of man is all-powerful, 
subject only to the will of the Supreme.” 

The time had clearly come and I hesitated no longer. 

Bending down over the golden tube I fixed my mouth 
upon it the instant Padma pulled out the plug. 

All sense of fear seemed to have left me. As Mr. Mir- 
rikh, Maurice and Ni-fan-lu had done before me, I drew 
in the fatal gas and straightened up. 

The deed was done! 


CHAPTER XX. 

MY SECOND JOURNEY TO MARS. 

Was there something wrong? 

Was I alone, of all those who had inhaled the gas before 
me, proof against its powers? 

I thought so then. 


MIRRIKH. 


196 

Thus far I had experienced absolutely no change in my 
sensations. 

I turned to Ah Schow and told him to ask Padma what 
the matter was; but, strange to say, Ah Schow did not seem 
to hear. 

I spoke louder — ^louder still — I shouted. It had no effect 
whatever upon my servant. 

They stood there looking at me; and then, to my utter 
amazement, I was looking at myself. There I was lying 
upon the stone floor beside the altar, in the precise spot 
where Maurice had lain before me. I saw the two lamas 
approach, lift me up and carry me to the trap. I saw them 
put me head first into the shute; I saw myself disappear like 
a flash. And yet I solemnly affirm that so far as my own 
consciousness went, I was precisely the same George Wylde 
I had been before. 

I was a man; a living man, with every atom of my per- 
sonality perfect; every member of my body, every stitch 
of my clothing intact; yet when I spoke, no one heard; 
when I moved about I seemed to pass directly through 
the forms around me. Already I had forgotten Padma’s 
injunction. I had not fixed my thoughts upon my body. 
How could I be expected to do so when to me it seemed as 
though I were in my body still? 

My first thought after the disappearance of my body, was 
one of curiosity to know how the flood was progressing. I 
thought of the big tree in the courtyard beneath which I 
had passed through that strange experience with Walla, and 
instantly I was there. 

Now for a moment terror seized me, for the courtyard 
was a lake; the water was pouring over the wall in torrents. 
But I soon perceived that I was no longer as I had been. 
I seemed to float above the water, and when I thought won- 
deringly of what was beyond the wall, I rose higher. I could 
look over it, and my eyes rested upon a vast sea, extending 
in every direction. 

Will it never end?’' I thought. Is there more still to 
come? What is its source? Has it not been exhausted yet? 
Would that I were at this wonderful Dshambi-nor.” 

Suddenly I seemed to shoot through the air with incredi- 
ble swiftness, and before I could at all realize the situation, 
I was approaching those distant mountain peaks which had 
seemed so far away. The next I knew I was among them, 


MIRRIKH. 


197 


hovering above a lake into which water was pouring from 
another lake at a higher level. At the outer edge of this 
upper lake, between two precipices, I perceived a wall made 
up of rough stones, in the middle of which was a yawning 
gap with the water rushing through. Then I comprehended 
exactly what had occurred. 

I looked down into the water. It formed no obstacle to 
my vision. I could see that the bottom of the lake was 
strewn all over with small objects made to represent the 
human head in profile. There were thousands upon thous- 
ands of them.^ Many were of gold, others of a black, dirty 
substance, which I instantly knew had once been glittering 
silver, now changed by the action of the water; but by far 
the largest number were of stone. 

‘‘What are these? How came they here?” I asked myself. 

The answer came to me, not in words, but by an inward 
consciousness which it seemed impossible to question, and I 
knew that they were the offerings of an ancient race which 
had vanished thousands upon thousands of years before 
many of our western thinkers are willing to admit the earth 
existed; cast into the lake to propitiate the spirit believed to 
hold its waters in check. I knew also, by the same myste- 
rious sense, that it was this race which had built the dam, 
the vaults beneath the lamasery and the strange shute into 
which I had seen my body go. 

Still thinking of these things, I suddenly found myself in 
motion again, and before I knew it was back in the court- 
yard; passing directly through the temple wall, which 
offered no more resistance than so much air; I was in the 
underground chamber once more. 

Here matters had changed. The water lay six inches 
deep upon the floor, and Padma was in the act of inhaling 
the gas. He was alone save for the lama upon whom the 
lot had fallen. Suddenly I saw his body ^ sink into this 
man's arms and another Padma rise beside it, appearing as 
a whitish cloud emanating from the region of the spleen, 
but quickly taking on the old lama's familiar form and 
floating away. 

I watched him as he vanished through the solid walls 
of the chamber and then turned to look at what was left 
behind. 

The lama was dragging the body towards the trap into 
which the water was now pouring in a steady stream. He 


198 


MIRRIKH. 


had tied a cloth tightly over the mouth and nostrils; in an- 
other instant he threw it down and it was gone. 

Breathlessly I watched him, for I knew that his time had 
come. It did not seem to disturb him, however. He closed 
the trap and wading to the altar removed the plug from the 
golden tube and inhaled the gas, restoring the plug before 
he raised himself again. Once more that mysterious process 
was repeated. The body of the lama sank to the floor with 
a splash, but his spirit — I questioned these mighty facts no 
longer — rose up and soared away, leaving me the sole occu- 
pant of that gloomy vault. 

Now one might reasonably suppose that by this time I 
would have found leisure to think of my own body, but I 
had not done so yet. The fact is I was enjoying a delicious 
sense of freedom — a sensation too delicious to be disturbed. 

I thought, instead, of Maurice. I desired to see him, to 
speak to him, to know where he was and what he was 
about. 

Then like a flash that chamber vanished and I was re^ 
peating my former experience — I was floating among the 
spheres. 

Sun, moon and stars innumerable were all about me, each 
in its proper form and place; each following its own proper 
motion; all of which I was, as before, m some measure able 
to grasp. 

Was I moving ? 

I certainly was and with incredible rapidity; yet as I 
directed my eyes toward Mars, which hovered a dull, red- 
dish globe of light above me, it seemed at a distance vast 
beyond all computation. It was only when I looked beyond 
it and caught sight of Orion and great Sirius that I com- 
prehended something of the immensity of space. Then Mars 
seemed so near that I felt I had only to reach out my hand 
and touch it, while aeons of time lay between myself and the 
Dog Star. My brain reeled — I was grappling with problems 
comprehensible only to the Divine essence — the Lord, God 
Almighty, who holds countless suns and worlds without end 
in the hollow of his hand. 

Then a voice spoke. 

“ Beware, George! Fix your thoughts upon your friends, 
lest while contemplating mysteries too deep for your natural 
mind, you sever the life cord and return to your proper 
sphere of usefulness no more!'* 


MIRRIKH. 


199 

Now may God keep the memory of what I beheld at that 
instant ever green! 

But why do I say it? There can be no lapse of time so 
great, no depth of space so vast, as to prevent me, when the 
time comes that this mortal body of mine is laid down to 
dust, from seeking out that face! 

Beside me floated a female form beautiful beyond all tell- 
ing, clothed in loose garments of fleecy whiteness*; her face 
close to my face, her eyes looking into my eyes, her thoughts 
so intertwined with my thoughts that I knew them and 
knew that she knew mine. 

“Who are you — some bright spirit sent to guide me?” I 
asked, with a strange inward speech of which I can give no 
proper description, except to say that I gave utterance to 
no audible sounds. 

Nor were such necessary. Not only did she understand 
me, but I had as little difficulty with her answer. After a 
second it was as though we were talking as mortals talk, yet 
this I knew was not actually the case. 

“ I am your soul’s mate to all eternity, George,” she said. 
“ For many years I have been with you in spirit. I laid 
down the material when you were but a child.” 

“ You are then a spirit? ” 

“ I am. It was I who spoke with you in the courtyard 
through the mediumship of the girl Walla.” 

“ Then it was true? ” 

“ Not only true, but more than that. Since your first 
meeting with that girl I have been able, in a sense, to make 
you feel my presence. It was I who looked at you out of 
her eyes, George, when you thought you loved her; when I 
ceased to look, your love was transformed almost to hatred. 
These, however, are things which you cannot comprehend.” 

“ So little do I comprehend that though I accept them as 
facts now, I shall reject and doubt upon my return to 
earth.” 

“ It is so. Yet they will leave their impressions. George, 
you are mine, I am yours. No power can keep us apart in 
eternity; though God alone knows when our souls shall be 
united in the realm of spirit. To me, however, this matters 
little, for to me as a spirit, time has no existence, but to you 
— for you can now never forget me — the time may seem long.” 

“ But how — by what power did you speak to me through 
the lips of the girl? ” 


200 


MIRRIKH. 


By the power of mind over mind. As a hypnotizer 
handles his lucide, so I handled Walla. Her consciousness 
was for the time obliterated. It was I who spoke.** 

Incomprehensible; but now I cannot doubt. Let us 
change the subject. Will you tell me your name? ** 

Not now — it is not permitted — call me Hope.’* 

“ Hope of the hour when I shall see you always? ** 

‘^That is it. You recognize my power over you, I per- 
ceive.** 

I feel as I never felt before in the presence of anyone, 
man or woman. It is not love as I have experienced love. 
It is rather a sense of completeness. ' I feel as if before I 

saw you I was but a fragment. I feel ’* 

Stay! You do not know yet the true conjugal feeling.” 

‘‘ I do not, I admit it. My wife ** 

“ Your wife! Do not use the word. I am your wife. As 
man and wife we were created from the beginning. Your 
unhappy companion, had she found her heart’s proper rest- 
ing place, would have been a different woman. Marriage, 
my love, is an ordinance so holy that the Divine nature 
alone can fully comprehend it. In the Divine the male and 
female, the positive and negative of spiritual force, are 
truly united. With mortals this is seldom granted; with 
disembodied spirits it may be called into existence at will 
in a certain sense, but many who in the world have been 
unhappily mated, do not will it — they fear, and their fear 
prevents. But in the Divine it is a mighty force, the crea- 
tive power calling into being the myriads of immortal souls 
with which the universe is filled.” 

As I said before, I hear, I comprehend dimly, I believe 
instinctively — but I shall forget.” 

‘‘ Would you taste in some slight measure the ineffable 
bliss of a true conjugal union? That, my love, will be some- 
thing which you can never forget.” 

“ Most gladly!” 

Then in an instant I was alone! 

Alone? No, not alone! I was complete! 

No words can do my feelings justice. A strange sensa- 
tion of duality had come over me. I felt that there were 
two of us, and yet that I and the woman were mysteriously one. 

But I could not see her — nor did I wish to see her. She 
seemed to be inside of me — it was rapture unspeakable to 
know that she was there. 


MIRRIKH. 


201 


I could hear her speak; I addressed her — she answered. 
She was mine, I was hers. Her soul was in my soul, her 
thoughts truly my thoughts. I was a man, and I knew that 
I had been but a fragment of a man before. 

George, I am here. You know me now. No length of 
time so long before we are thus finally brought together that 
you will forget.’* 

** Never! Never! Never leave me, my beloved! I cried. 
‘‘ Remain in my soul forever! I have no wish now to go 
back to earth!’* 

But no sooner had I given utterance to this sentiment 
than she was at my side again, smiling sadly. 

“ Oh, you must not say that,** she said. “ Your life work 
has but begun. Do not think that this experience has been 
accorded you without a purpose. Nothing is without a pur- 
pose. Marriage is most grossly misunderstood by you 
mortals. It is to be your work to write of this and other 
strange experiences through which you are passing, so that 
those who care to read may know something of the truth.” 

‘‘ Come to me again!’* I cried. ** That taste of bliss makes 
me long for more! Come, my love — my wife!** 

She shook her head and smiled. 

“Not again, George. You have other duties to perform, 
as I have said. As it is your life cord was almost severed — 
you can see it there behind you, trailing like a silver thread.” 

But I had already seen it and did not even turn to look. 
I begged and pleaded until she bade me desist with a certain 
positiveness of manner which I did not altogether fancy. 
This she seemed to understand. 

“ You see,’* she said, “ there is not true harmony between 
us yet; there cannot be until you have crossed the border. 
The veil still divides us, George.” 

“ Can you not tear it aside and show me the spirit world?” 

“No — oh no! That cannot be.** 

“ But if I am a spirit, why not? ** 

“ You are not a spirit in the word’s full sense. Let that 
silver cord be severed and you would quickly see the spirit 
world, but that would be a calamity.** 

“ Why a calamity? ** 

“It is a calamity for any man to leave earth life with his 
work unfinished. But I must now leave you. George, my 
love, my husband, my soul's true mate, I go, but I shall 
come once again. Farewell!’* 


202 


MIRRIKH. 


She vanished like meadow mist before the rays of* the 
rising sun, and I was alone. 

Yet I felt her near me. I knew the sense of her presence 
now — nor has that knowledge ever left me — I knew that she 
was near me then, that her thoughts were impressing them- 
selves upon my soul. 

Think of Maurice,*’ she seemed to say; and immediately 
I thought of Maurice. 

Had my planetary journey been prolonged for a purpose? 

I do not know, but this much is certain, on the instant, 
when obeying that inward voice, I fixed my mind on Mau- 
rice, I stood at his side! 

For me space had been obliterated. If it was all true and 
Maurice was on Mars, then was I also on Mars. I could see 
Maurice, but I instantly perceived that he was powerless to 
see me. 

It was Maurice and it was not Maurice. 

The person I stood beside was dressed in a long gown of 
blue satin, belted in at the waist and beautifully embroidered 
with flowers in their natural colors, but the face, though it 
bore some resemblance to my friend, was as the face of my 
mysterious acquaintance at Panompin. Like Mr. Mirrikh’s 
face, half yellow, half black; yet inside of that body — and 
I seemed able to look inside without the slightest difficulty, 
I could see another man, perfect in every particular. This 
was Maurice De Veber as I knew him — there was no 
change. 

When I first saw him I shouted his name aloud, but now 
finding that I could not make my presence known, I con- 
tented myself with simply looking at him and surveying his 
surroundings which were, of course, of the highest interest, 
for then I had not the slightest doubt that I was actually 
on the planet Mars. 

Maurice was sitting upon a chair made of reeds plaited 
together, in a room of considerable size where there was 
a couch, also of plaited reeds, but no other furniture save 
an extra chair or two. He was smoking an odd-looking 
cigar; its shape was a perfect crescent, and instead of the 
odor of tobacco, it sent up with the smoke a most delicious 
perfume. 

Now it seemed to me that it was morning and that Mau- 
rice had just arisen from the couch, where he had been 
sleeping all night with his present clothes on. With the 


MIRRIKH. 


203 


same ease I comprehended that this was the way people 
slept here; that they did not remove their clothing at night 
as we do, because their dress hangs perfectly loose upon 
them, and the daily bath is a universal custom. Thinking 
then of the naked men I had seen in my previous vision, 
it came to me that this was not the same country Maurice 
had first entered, but another where the manners and 
customs were different. At that instant my ears caught a 
burst of strange music outside, at which he sprang up and 
went darting through the door. It was a harmony of many 
sounds precisely such as we heard that rainy night in the 
ruined tower, when Mr. Mirrikh afterward came through 
the shawl in sections, scaring me almost out of my wits. 

I followed Maurice, coming out upon a broad lawn 
bordered by great trees, all of species wholly strange to me, 
but not at all unlike the trees of temperate latitudes on 
earth. Beyond the trees was an open space — a public square 
apparently, where an immense crowd of people had as- 
sembled. On the other side of the square rose a great 
temple. Nothing in comparison with the structures seen in 
my previous vision, but still far larger than any building on 
earth. 

Instinctively I floated away from Maurice and found my- 
self inside this temple. As with everything else, I seemed 
to grasp its purpose at a glance, and knew that here people 
worshiped one God; a God all-powerful, executing His will 
through the instrumentality of myriads of ministering spirits. 
Many statues, superbly cut in snowy marble, stood beneath 
the great dome overshadowing the vast interior. They 
were representations of men and women once prominent in 
the social affairs of these people, whose spirits were sup- 
posed still to have the interests of the nation in charge. 

Before each statue was a little altar, and upon most of 
the altars lay offerings of fruit and beautiful flowers. 

That prayers to God, and consultation of the spirit guides 
sent in answer, constitute the religion of this race, was like- 
wise impressed upon me. Forms, ceremonies, all the tricks 
and devices of priestcraft aiming at personal dominion are 
unknown Jiere. 

One God and all creation united with him in a harmonious 
desire to work His will; from the mightiest spirit of spheres 
celestial, to the humblest germ invisible even beneath the 
most powerful glass the ingenuity of man can devise. 


204 


MIRRIKH. 


Out again in the square the music called me now, and I 
knew that it was not instrumental but the production of the 
human voice. 

The vast throng stood facing a choir of a hundred youths 
and as many maidens, who occupied a semicircular plat- 
form ranged around a sort of pulpit. Now for the first 
time I had a good view of these Martians, and saw that, 
except for the strange blackness about the face, the men 
were just the same as the men on Earth, and the nature 
of this discoloration I was now able to comprehend at a 
glance. 

The faces of the women were perfectly fair, so with the 
boys; some of the young men exhibited the blackness, others 
younger did not, but no such thing as beards could be seen. 
The blackness, then, was the sign of virility, and really, when 
one comes to think of it, was no more disfiguring than a 
beard. 

They were singing, and such amazing singing! From 
those two hundred human throats issued every sound cap- 
able of being produced by the finest orchestra ever gathered 
together. How they did it I do not pretend to say, but I 
could hear the notes of violins, flutes, flageolets, cornets 
and instruments innumerable, even to the bass viol and the 
boom of the big bass drum. 

Again I was at Maurice’s side. He was watching and 
listening. 

Presently a man ascended the rostrum, and bareheaded, 
beneath those broad spreading branches, began to address 
the multitude. Intense grew my interest when I perceived 
that this man was Mr. Mirrikh. He announced that he 
would continue his lecture upon the manners and customs 
of the planet Earth. 

And he spoke well. For fully fifteen minutes I listened. 
It seemed to be one of a series of lectures describing his 
earth journey. The point upon which he particularly 
dwelt was the gross ignorance in which the inhabitants of 
our planet were plunged concerning spiritual laws; our gen- 
eral disbelief in the existence and importance of such laws, 
extending even in many instances to a total denial of the 
existence of spirit and a spiritual world. 

And on their planet, even among those who admit the 
existence of a life after death, my friends,” he shouted, 
** there is but little knowledge and still less desire to attain 


MIRRIKH. 


205 

to wisdom in matters spiritual. There men are satisfied to 
leave such things to priests whose mission, it appears, is to 
terrorize the ignorant, to distort and suppress such few facts 
V as they possess; to load down their barbarous worship with 
senseless forms and ceremonies, until all knowledge of the 
Divine principle is obliterated, and all freedom of thought 
crushed. Even among the few enlightened minds existing 
on this planet a singular condition of affairs obtains; for 
these are for the most part men steeped in selfishness who 
strive to conceal rather than promulgate spiritual truth. 
Not that individual minds do not exist whose enlightenment 
in a sense approaches ours; but they are as grains of sand in 
the desert, and powerless to make themselves heard or their 
influence felt.” 

All this, and much more, I heard him say, and to my ears 
every word came in plain English, yet I seemed to know 
that he was not speaking my language, but that it was my 
inner consciousness which understood. 

“ But if I remain here I shall see nothing of Mars,” I 
suddenly reflected, and the desire to comprehend something 
of the nature of the planet became intense. 

I looked at Maurice, whom for the time being I had for- 
gotten, and I now perceived what before I had failed to 
observe — Maurice was not alone. 

There, beside him, stood a young woman of superb figure 
and sweet, gentle countenance. At first I thought she must 
be a spirit, for I became inwardly conscious of a certain 
harmonious blending of soul between them; but I soon per- 
ceived that she was still in the material body, and I -knew 
also that already Maurice recognized this harmony; that he 
loved her, that she loved him. 

Then my desire to be off reached an intensity no longer 
to be resisted, and I found myself floating over a vast city 
made up of the same low buildings previously observed, 
with here and there a temple or some public edifice thrown 
in. 

Presently I was beyond the city and moving over forest 
and plain; all very beautiful, but in no essential particular 
differing from similar scenes on earth. 

Soon J came to water — it was red. I looked above me — • 
the clouds, of which there were but few, also had a reddish 
tinge. 

I floated above the water with the same electric rapidity. 


2o6 


MlRRlKH. 


It was a land-locked sea, extending to a vast distance on 
either side of me, but its width was not great, and soon I had 
left it behind and was passing above a densely wooded 
country, more tropical in appearance than the land first 
seen. 

Here I perceived, scattered through the forest, small 
groupings of huts of conical shape, made of branches and 
thatched, in and about which were people of widely differ- 
ent appearance from Mr. Mirrikh and his audience. They 
were small of stature and entirely naked; the color of their 
skin was a dirty brown; their foreheads were low and re- 
treating, exhibiting little more intelligence than the Bush- 
men of Africa — scarcely as much. 

Passing beyond this vast forest I came to another sea, 
and beyond that again to a beautiful country of great extent 
inhabited by a people similar to those whom I had seen at 
first. 

Floating upon the seas I saw ships innumerable; they 
were not large, without sails, and seemed to be propelled by 
electricity. Animals of many kinds I saw also; nearly all 
differed from the animal forms of earth, and for me to at- 
tempt to describe them would only have the effect of add- 
ing to the ridicule which this part of my narrative is sure to 
call down upon my unfortunate head. 

Soon I had passed over this stretch of country and 
another narrow sea lay before me, beyond which I perceived 
a more barren land; rather Arctic in appearance; this passed, 
vegetation ceased, and I found myself floating above im- 
mense plains buried beneath ice and snow. 

I knew that I must now be nearing the Martian poles and 
my curiosity had become intense, when suddenly I heard 
that gentle voice again: 

Beware, George! You are going too far, your life cord 
is being strained beyond endurance. Fix your thoughts 
upon your body without delay!” 

It was a bitter disappointment to me, but I could not dis- 
obey. 

I closed my eyes and thought of that body which I had 
seen thrown into the shute with as little ceremony as if it 
had been a meal sack. 

Instantly the wondrous scene was obliterated and all con- 
sciousness left me. 

The next I knew I was experiencing precisely the same 


MlRRlKH. 


Ctoj 

sensations one feels when recovering from a fainting fit. 

‘‘Wylde! Wylde! Wake up! Wylde! Wylde! Speak to 
me, for God’s sake!” some one was shouting in my ears. 

It was the Doctor’s voice. 

I was surrounded by utter darkness lying upon a couch 
as hard as stone. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

PRISONERS UNDERGROUND. 

“Breakfast! Breakfast! Come Wylde, turn out! All is 
ready for our sumptuous repast!” 

A month has elapsed since my return from Mars and 
again the Doctor’s hand is upon my shoulder; he is shaking 
me violently. I rub my eyes, yawn, straighten up. and stare 
about. 

The sight is not a cheerful one. Surrounding me are the 
walls of a vast cavern, possessed of none of that beauty 
of caverns about which poets and novelists love to rave. 
There are no snowy stalactites nor glittering stalagmites, 
nothing but the black, ragged rock, all dripping with moist- 
ure where the gloom permits my eyes to penetrate. The 
floor is of sand, mingled with which are whitish fragments 
strewn in every direction; these, though they have long 
since lost their terrors, never cease to be disquieting; they 
are human bones; bones of men who lived out their lives in 
ages long gone by; a musty odor seems to arise from them; 
the air is damp and chilly; rheumatic pains rack my own 
unfortunate bones as I stagger to my feet. 

“Don’t you want any breakfast?” asked the Doctor 
gloomily. “ Not that I blame you much if you don’t, for 
the fodder we’ve been subsisting on these last four weeks is 
enough to make a horse sick. You had better come and 
take your share though, for there will be no more until to- 
morrow. If we ever expect to escape we must keep up the 
physical no matter how our spirits flag.” 

“ So you are beginning to acknowledge the existence of 
spirit. Doctor?” I said slyly. 

“Pshaw! Don’t you begin nagging thus early in the 


2o8 


MIRRIKH. 


day. I am reduced to the necessity of acknowledging it or 
quarrelling with you, George Wylde, and under the existing 
circumstances that would be a decided mistake.’* 

I said no more, but followed the Doctor through the cham- 
ber in which we now found ourselves, into a larger one 
where a fire burned and Ah Schow was steeping tea in 
an old earthern pot. Upon a huge fragment of rock cups, 
saucers and plates were laid and several lamas sat around 
devouring rice with their chopsticks. Walla bent over the 
fire near our cook, busily stirring the contents of a huge, 
smoke-begrimed vessel; the glow of the fire alone shed 
light upon the scene. 

Such was my situation now after the lapse of many 
weary days — days lengthened into weeks until, as I have 
said, a month had passed. 

Who can wonder if I own to an inward longing for a sec- 
ond inhalation from that golden tube; if I sometimes wish 
my life cord might have been severed; that I was back again 
with Maurice and Mr. Mirrikh in Mars? 

But enough of this. 

We were now in a vast cavern opening back into the side 
of a mountain, but just where on the face of God’s footstool 
this cavern was located, we did not know. 

With us — by us I mean the Doctor and myself — were 
Padma and all his lamas save the one whom I had seen put the 
body of the old priest into the shute. That Walla and Ah 
Schow were likewise with us I have already said. 

My return from Mars was to this cave. I opened my 
eyes to find the Doctor bending over me, using every effort 
to resuscitate what, as he assured me afterward, he fully be- 
lieved to be a corpse; but he could scarcely have been more 
surprised when I rose up and spoke than I was to see him^ 
for I had counted the Doctor as already dead. 

His story was briefly told. 

The Doctor boarded the car, and acting upon the infor- 
mation furnished him by Padma, started alone on his peril- 
ous journey. Of course I was immensely curious to learn 
how he had fared, but his description of the trip from the 
lamasery to the cavern was singularly vague. 

‘‘ Upon my word, I can’t tell you much about it, George,” 
he said, when I came to question him. “ I just held on to 
the rope and seemed to go with a rush. It was pitch dark, 
but there was plenty of air and the motion of the car 


MIRRIKII. 


209 


not rapid enough to take my breath away; I thought I was 
never going to reach the end, when all at once the rope 
parted, and the next thing I knew I was lying on the bottom 
of the car, which had ceased to move/* 

And what did you do then? *’ I asked. 

“ Do! What could I do? It was all as dark as Erebus, 
and I hadn*t the remotest idea where I was.’* 

“You would have fared better if you had been less selfish 
and taken your chances with the rest of us,’* I answered; 
and then I told him something of my own experiences — but 
not all. But I maintained stoutly that I had seen Maurice; 
that in spirit I had been to Mars. 

He would not admit it, of course; but I hardly think he 
altogether doubted. Returning to his own story he went on 
to say that at first he wandered about in a state bordering 
on madness, for what could he do there alone in the dark- 
ness but wander on till strength failed and death came to 
his relief? 

Frightful must have been his mental suffering in those 
awful moments; fortunately for him, however, he was not 
called upon to endure them long, for suddenly he saw a 
light flash through the gloom and hurrying to it beheld 
Ni-fan-lu. 

But let the Doctor give the rest in his own words. 

“ I was amazed beyond all telling, George. There stood 
the fellow precisely as I had last seen him. 

“ ‘ How did you get here? * ** I demanded. 

“ He threw up his hands upon seeing me and seemed 
even more startled than I was — I knew afterward that he 
believed me dead — I had to repeat my question a second 
time, and in answer he pointed to a square, box-like arrange- 
ment which projected through the wall of the cave, termi- 
nating a few inches above the floor.** 

“ My body came through there,** he said; “ I inhaled the 
gas, leh it, followed in spirit and took it up again.** 

“ I might have argued with him, but before I could even 
answer, Walla came shooting out of the box and fell at my 
feet. You can imagine my amazement, when after a mo- 
ment I saw her rise up and begin rubbing her eyes like one 
just awakening. I questioned her, but she could tell me 
nothing; she did not even remember how she had started, 
but commenced to cry out for Maurice. While I tried to quiet 
her Maurice’s body came down, and after that yours, and 


210 


MIRRIKH. 


after yours came Ah Schow, and then lama after lama; at 
length your grip came flying out and a lot of bags followed 
it. Last of all came Padma all tied up with rags, but I had 
grown used to it by this time, and what worried me most was 
that you showed no sign of returning consciousness like 
the rest. It alarmed Padma not a little, too, and he imme- 
diately hypnotized Walla and began to question her. Her 
answers did not surprise me a bit, for by this time I was 
prepared for anything. She said that you had gone to seek 
Maurice in Mars.** 

Here, so far as can interest the reader, the Doctor*s nar- 
ative ended. Two points, however, may be alluded to. 
The distance between the lamasery and the cavern, and the 
length of time during which I had remained unconscious 
after the appearance of my body at the other end of the shute. 

Concerning the first, I am unfortunately not in position to 
furnish any information, for the Doctor had not thought to 
note the time while the excitement continued. One thing 
is certain, those strange underground inclines were many 
miles in length; as for myself, Philpot assured me that he 
watched over my body for more than an hour and had just 
about given me up, when all at once I looked at him and 
spoke his name. 

Now all this talk took place beside Maurice’s body, which 
the Doctor and Ni-fan-lu had carefully conveyed to a rocky 
shelf on one side of the cavern, where I found it enveloped 
in that coarse bagging such as the Chinese wrap around tea 
chests. There was no change in the appearance of the face, 
nor had there been any as yet after the lapse of a full 
month. At night I slept beside it, by day Walla usually 
watched; between us both it was seldom left alone. 

Whether or no the Doctor still believed Maurice dead I 
cannot positively say, for he had long since refused to dis- 
cuss the matter. He freely admitted, however, that there 
was something very different from either death or the ordi- 
nary trance state about my friend’s condition; and he would 
sometimes sit by for a long time holding a pocket mirror 
before the nostrils — but never a sign of moisture came upon 
the glass, and yet at no time was the body absolutely cold. 
Indeed the Doctor assured me that he was satisfied that no 
true rigor mortis had come upon it. Once he urged me to 
let him try bleeding, but I grew so excited in my refusal 
that he never mentioned the matter again. 


MIRRIKH. 


2II 


Such, briefly told, are the salient points connected with 
our arrival in this strange place; and now, before resuming 
the thread of my narrative, let me speak a few words about 
the cave itself. 

It was of vast extent, reaching far back into the heart of 
the mountain, but no efforts at exploration had been made. 
Just how we could be on a mountain at all I could not 
understand, unless the country from Psam-dagong down 
toward Lh'asa has a gradual descent; but on a mountain we 
were, Padma assured us, surrounded by rocks on all sides 
save one, and this one, when I first beheld it, I almost wished 
might be walled in too. 

Here the cavern opened upon a roaring torrent, rushing 
down between perpendicular walls; foaming, boiling, tearing 
its way past the entrance like mad, with the water setting 
back into the cave for a distance of at least twenty feet. 

Beyond we could see only a wall of gray granite, from 
which we were separated by the torrent. 

“ Our way lies there,** said the old lama, calmly, “but the 
flood is here before us. We shall have to wait for the water 
to fall.** 

“ But how are we to pass through that barrier? ** I asked. 
“ It is a pity that our bodies could not have been sent a 
little further on.’* 

“A pity indeed. This I did not anticipate; but it would 
have made no difference. We chose the only possible way 
of escaping from Psam-dagong.” 

Let me mention that Padma made no allusion at any 
time to the Doctor’s mad action. With that quiet good 
sense he ever displayed, the old lama let the matter drop. 

“ Is there a way of passing through that wall? ** asked the 
Doctor. 

“ Most certainly,” was the reply. “ There is a passage 
directly through it leading down the mountain. From 
thence to Lh’asa the way is short and easy. Indeed the 
city might be discerned from the mountain tops beyond 
the river, could we but transport ourselves there.” 

“Ah! If we only could!” I cried; “but tell me, father, 
this passage: is it below the water level now?” 

“ It is, my son; we can only possess our souls in patience 
till the waters fall.” 

“ And that will be when? ** 

“ Buddha alone can answer.” 


212 


MIRRIKH. 


“ And in the meantime how are we to subsist? ** 

‘‘There are stores of rice and other provisions in the 
cavern here upon which we shall be obliged to draw. Of 
water we have enough and to spare.” 

“ And these provisions were placed here — when? ” 

“Years ago in anticipation of the bursting of the 
Dshambi-nor; still they are in good condition. I have ex- 
amined them. Palatable they certainly are not, but they 
will sustain life.” 

“But how are we to cross even when the water falls; is 
there not a deep ravine? ” 

“ So deep, my son, that to gaze upon it as I saw it in my 
boyhood would fill your soul with terror. There was a 
bridge here then; since it has been 'swept away; we must 
find means, if we can, to construct another; but one thing 
weighs heavily on my mind: even if we do in the end man- 
age to cross here, what will become of you? ” 

“ Why do you ask? Shall we not go with you? ” 

“Children,” he said, gazing upon us pityingly, “ so far as 
lies in my power I shall protect you, but know the worst. 
You are foreigners; worse still, you are English. The 
moment you pass through the gates of Lh’asa you will be 
seized and put to death. No Englishman has ever been 
known to enter the city save one, and he lost his life in the 
end. The law of our Chinese masters is most stringent. 
Your friend, Mr. Mirrikh, has left you no letter of safe con- 
duct out of the country. It is simply impossible that you 
can ever escape from Thibet.” 

Not until now had we known this, for we could not read 
the letter Mr. Mirrikh had given us, which proved so perfect 
an open sesame into this strange land. Padma proceeded to 
inform us that it only requested that we be passed to Psam- 
dagong, but it made no provision whatever for our return, 
and not under any circumstances would it save us once we 
were in Lh'asa. 

It was a gloomy outlook. Padma's reference to Mr. 
Moorcroft, who lived twelve years in Lh’asa in disguise, did 
not cheer us any. 

Moorcroft arrived at Lh'asa by way of Ladak, in 1820. 
He wore the dress of a Mahommedan and managed to 
deceive the*police up to the last. Indeed his murder was 
the work of a mountain banditti, and not until his effects 


MIRRIKH. 


213 


came to be examined was the fact of his being an English- 
man known. 

By Jove, this is a bad business! ” said the Doctor after 
Padma left us. I’ve been expecting something of this sort, 
Wylde. The only thing left is for us to turn Buddhists. 
Oh, for the levitating powers of Mirrikh! Bless me! but 
those were not half bad days at the musty old Nagkon 
Wat. Would that they were back again. ” 

But wishing could bring no change in our situation. Day 
after day while Walla and I watched by Maurice’s body 
the Doctor watched the water at the mouth of the cave. 

For eight days it continued to rise, until at last, instead of 
extending twenty feet back into the cave it reached more 
than fifty. Very naturally we began to wonder if it would 
keep on rising and ultimately drown us out; but on the 
ninth day, to my intense relief, it began to fall, and after 
that kept on falling, until now it was below the entrance of 
the passage through the granite wall on the other side of the 
ravine, or canon, as I preferred to call it; we could still see 
the water rushing madly when we wished, but it was nec- 
essary to lean out of the cave to do this, for our rocky 
prison was now entirely dry. 

Such was the situation on that morning when the Doctor 
called me to breakfast. 

At my appearance Walla turned her share of the cooking 
over to Ah Schow and hastily retreated to take her place be- 
side Maurice’s body. And in this connection I may as well 
say that my feelings toward the poor girl^ had long since 
assumed proper shape. The love which I, in my ignorance, 
thought I felt for her, I knew now belonged to another; to a 
being not of this world, whose very existence had become 
to me but a beautiful dream. 

Thus Walla, no longer annoyed by the consciousness that 
I was always watching her, came to be upon very good 
terms with me; and although we spoke but seldom, we 
thoroughly understood each other so far as Maurice was 
concerned, and was not that enough? 

There was nothing particularly remarkable about this 
day, except that it rained, and so long as the daylight lasted 
— it was precious little of it we saw — there was a steady drip 
at the mouth of the cave. 

We had fallen into a regular routine by this time. Padma 
gathered his lamas about him at stated hours, and so far as 


214 


MIRRIKH. 


they were able, the rules of the lamasery were preserved; 
prayer wheels were ground and spiritual instruction given. 
At first the Doctor undertook to explain something of Pad- 
ma's discourses, for every other day the venerable lama 
kindly consented to deliver them in Hindustani, which 
language several of his flock understood; but it was hard 
translating to me, and as the Doctor soon grew tired of the 
task, we gave it up. 

When not engaged in religious exercises, the lamas kept 
themselves busy as best they could, and foremost among 
their occupations was the plaiting of long strips of hide, out 
of which it was intended to construct a bridge to throw 
across the canon, though how this was to be accomplished I 
could not comprehend. The hides were found in the cave 
in the small chamber where the provisions had been stored. 
The former bridge was likewise of hide, Padma informed us, 
and these had been placed where we discovered them for 
the purpose of renewing it when necessary. But one thing 
I may say right here, we found it very difficult to draw 
much information about the country or the cave and its 
history from the old superior of Psam-dagong, for in spite 
of his friendly manner he seemed determined that in case 
we ever did succeed in leaving Thibet alive, it should be in 
utter ignorance about the land and its resources, so far as he 
was concerned. Often we questioned him on these points, 
but his replies were always vague and unsatisfactory, and 
the conversation was dropped as soon as possible. Perhaps, 
indeed, the old man’s life had been such a retired one that 
his information was but slight on matters other than of a spirit- 
ual nature; but the Doctor maintained, and I agreed with 
him, that he probably thought he acted under orders from 
the Grand Lama, for he would at times retire and be absent 
for hours, and upon his return declare that he had been in 
spirit to Lh’asa and in consultation with his superior. I 
give all this just as we received it at the time, and shall 
make no comments upon its probable truth or falsity. Once 
I asked him why during these visits he could not provide 
for our departure from the country, but he cut me short by 
saying that such things were impossible; that his conver- 
sations in spirit with his superior were only of a spiritual 
nature, that he could not even bring help to assist us in our 
leaving the cave. 

Thus the days came and went, and the time drew near 


MIRRIKH. 


215 


when our departure was to take place; indeed there was no 
reason why a move should not be made now, so far as I 
could see, for the bridge was complete and the water had 
fallen below the opening in the wall on the opposite side of 
the canon. Padma informed us, however, that nothing 
could be done until a certain holy day, and declined to tell 
us when this would come or how the bridge was to be 
thrown across the canon. Indeed all his communications 
to us were involved in so much mystery that our anxiety 
became intense; yet we were powerless to do anything and 
tried to be as patient as circumstances would permit. 

‘‘There’s something wrong about it all, George!” the 
Doctor kept saying. “ With all his mildness and pretended 
fatherly interest in our welfare, I don’t trust Padma. We 
are foreigners, and the old fellow has all the prejudices of 
his race. Be very sure we shall never leave Thibet alive.” 

And such were some of the sayings and doings of the 
dreary days during which we remained prisoners under- 
ground. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE RETURN. 

“Good evening, my children! The day is spent at last, 
but the sunlight will soon come again. Our time in this 
gloomy retreat grows short, and before we leave it forever, I 
would show you more of the mysteries of Nature; I am about 
to consult my spirit guides as to the proper steps to be taken 
in your case. Would it please you to be present and in- 
crease your store of wisdom^ I do not urge it, I only sug- 
gest that wisdom, no matter how acquired, must ever assist 
in the progress of the soul toward that blessed Nirvana 
where we shall be in Buddha and his all-pervading essence 
more fully in us.” 

“ By all means let us join him, George,” said the Doctor. 
“ Anything to break this infernal monotony. Shall I say 

yes?” . 

“ Ask him if he cannot go through his ceremony right 


2i6 


MIRRIKH. 


here,*' I replied. I do not want to leave Maurice just 
now.^* 

“ But why not now as well at another time? You often 
leave him with Walla for hours together.” 

“ I do not know. I have strange feelings about Maurice 
to-night. It seems to me that a change is at hand; that 
before many hours the monotony of our existence here, 
which has been so irksome to us both, will be broken. 1 
cannot explain my feelings, but I am determined to remain 
where I am.” 

He raised no objection. He seldom did that now to any- 
thing, but turned to Padma and translated my reply. 

Nor had the old lama, rather -to my surprise, any objec- 
tion to offer. 

What I am about to do can as well be done here as 
elsewhere,” he answered. “ I leave you now, but I shall re- 
turn presently. Remain as you are and try and bring your 
minds into a state of perfect quiescence.” 

Thus saying Padma retreated, leaving the Doctor and my- 
self to discuss the best methods of becoming quiescent — 
rather a difficult matter under the circumstances. 

Walla at the time was seated upon the sandy floor close to 
the shelf of rock where Maurice's body lay. She seldom 
spoke in these days, but seemed to live only in the contem- 
plation of those cold, white features. Sincerely I pitied the 
girl. Far better for her would it have been had she re- 
mained among her own people. The education which she 
had received had done nothing for her but to make her dis- 
contented with the sphere in which her lot was cast, and foster 
within her hopes and aspirations impossible of realization; 
for what could she ever be to Maurice or Maurice to her, 
even if the miracle we hoped for should be accomplished 
and that body rise again? 

How little the best of us can comprehend the future. 
What spiritual relation Maurice bore to poor Walla, God 
alone can tell; that her work for him was to be of the utmost 
importance will be seen before my story is at an end. 

In less than ten minutes Padma was back again, and with 
him came a young lama whose name I have striven in vain 
to remember. He carried in his arms a heap of argols — 
part of the stores of the caves — which he flung down upon 
the sand with a sigh of relief. 

Are the others not to be with us?” asked the Doctor. 


MIRRIKH. 


217 


No; they have retired to rest,” was the answer. What 
we are now about to do can best be done in the presence of 
but a few. Indeed your own presence may interfere with 
matters to some extent, but I am determined that you shall 
see.” 

I made no reply, for we had agreed to throw ourselves fully 
into the channels of Padma’s thought, whatever they might 
be. Indeed I shall even now forbear to comment upon the 
scene, but simply content myself with describing it as we 
saw it on that ever memorable night. 

The first thing Padma did was to produce a small musical 
instrument resembling a drum head in shape; a wooden 
hoop with parchment covering. Seating himself in Oriental 
fashion, he spoke a few words to the lama who had scooped 
out a hole for the argols and started a blaze. 

Immediately the lama threw aside his robe and we saw 
that he was entirely naked save for a strip of cloth about his 
loins; in this condition he seated himself cross legged before 
the fire and Padma ordered the Doctor to extinguish the 
wretched lamp which stood on the ledge near Maurice’s 
face. This action aroused Walla; she raised up and looked 
curiously at us. I doubt if she had even heard our conver- 
sation regarding the matter, for she seemed surprised, al- 
though she did not speak. 

It will be necessary for you to remain perfectly quiet,” 
said Padma. “To those who speak to you talk freely; other- 
wise say nothing — do not even move.” 

“ What the mischief!” muttered the Doctor. “ Who is he 
talking about? Who is there to speak to us beside himself?” 

“ Peace!” cried the old lama peremptorily, his ears catch- 
ing the murmur of the Doctor’s voice. “ Peace, my children, 
or we cannot proceed.” 

We were silent immediately, and Padma^ placing his drum 
head upon his knees, began monotonously beating it with 
two small sticks. There was no attempt at harmony, just a 
steady tap! tap! I could but think, as I watched him, 
that precisely such were the operations of the medicine 
men among our American Indians, and indeed the 
prophets of all primitive people, so far as my reading has 
shown me. Meanwhile his companion sat with folded arms, 
rocking his naked body to and fro, his eyes fixed upon the 
dull glow of the smoldering argols; occasionally his lips 
seemed to move. 


2lS 


MIRRIKH. 


Five — ten — fifteen minutes passed. We began to grow 
impatient, and the Doctor was in a dreadful fidget, for 
nothing whatever had happened. What we expected was 
that the lama would become entranced and begin speaking 
by what professed to be spirit inspiration. What actually 
did happen was something of a totally different sort. 

Still the tapping of the drum continued, until the strain 
grew fearful and each tap seemed to burn its way into my 
brain like red hot iron. For relief I removed my eyes from 
the rocking body of the lama and looked at Walla. Her head 
was bowed low upon her breast. She seemed to be asleep. 

‘‘Look! look!’' breathed the Doctor before I could move 
my eyes back to the lama again. 

I looked and saw that a change had come; a change the 
meaning of which, I at least, should be able to recognize 
even if the Doctor could not; the body of the lama had 
ceased to move and around it a whitish mist was gathering; 
this rapidly increased in density until it became a great ob- 
long ball of light, which bounded up and down upon the 
sand for a few seconds and then vanished like a flash. 

“ Children you must not speak!” whispered Padma; “ but 
for your interruption the spirit would have succeeded. No 
matter; it will come again.” 

“ Materialization, by Jove!” breathed the Doctor almost 
inaudibly, but he^held his tongue after that. 

In a moment the light appeared again and this time there 
was no bounding about. Padma beat his drum faster and 
faster and then suddenly ceased altogether. As he did so 
we saw the figure of a man rise at the feet of the lama; sink 
back again, rise a second time and stand erect. To our in- 
tense astonishment this person was almost a counterpart of 
Padma himself; not only in point of age and features, but in 
dress. Without even glancing in our direction, he walked 
with firm tread toward the old lama who bowed low before 
him; extending his hand he raised Padma, embraced and 
kissed him; then side by side they walked together into the 
shadows of the cave and disappeared. 

I looked at the Doctor triumphantly, only to find him 
staring at me. 

“ Just as I saw it at the inn of Zhad-uan ” I whispered, 
forgetting Padma’s injunction of silence; but the Doctor 
did not answer and for excellent reason. A ball of light, 
precisely similar to the other, was hovering at my feet. 


MIRRIKH. 


219 


Breathlessly we watched it, but after a few seconds it 
disappeared. I remembered Mr. Mirrikh's injunction and 
whispered to the Doctor to turn his head away; but this, it 
seemed, was not necessary, for at the same instant I saw 
what appeared to be a mass of moving white drapery upon 
the floor, and suddenly a female form rose up and ap- 
proached my companion with outstretched arms. 

“Miles — Miles, my boy, don't you know me?" I heard 
her whisper in hoarse, sepulchral tones. 

“ My mother!" burst from the Doctor. He started up and 
drew back in terror. 

Instantly the white figure sank down and seemed to de- 
solve into nothingness; but there was the naked lama 
crouching by the fire still, his eyes closed, his head bent 
forward upon his breast. To all appearance he was sound 
asleep. 

“You fool!" I whispered. “Why did you do so? If 
that was indeed your mother's spirit she surely would have 
done you no harm." 

He brushed his hand across his face which I could see 
was damp with perspiration. 

“ George, if we are going mad, then God help us! If that 
was my mother's spirit, then 1 am di fool! Anyhow, she is 
the last person I want to see." 

“ As far as that is concerned you probably know your 
own business best. Did she resemble your mother? " 

“ She did — most decidedly." 

“ She was certainly a woman of advanced years. I noticed 
her bent form and her thin features. One thing is sure, 
she could speak English, and what's more she knew your 
name." 

He muttered something which I did not catch. I would 
have questioned him further, but the sound of footsteps an- 
nounced that Padma was returning, and I forbore. 

The old lama came alone, seated himself before the fire 
and took up his drum. 

“ My children, we may speak a few words now, while the 
spirits renew their forces," he said. “ Have you also had 
visitors from the world unseen? ” 

“ There was a female here," replied the Doctor, curtly. 
“ As to where she came from probably you know best." 

“ Where could she have come from? Is there a woman 
in this cave beside your companion who sits behind you? " 


220 


MIRRIKH. 


** She was not the one.” 

Then indeed you have beheld a spirit. Did she not 
inform you who she was? ” 

‘‘ No,” replied the Doctor, so savagely that Padma sighed 
and resumed his drumming, nor did I attempt to interfere, 
or even to ask what had become of the form which walked 
away with him and failed to return. 

Ten minutes more elapsed and then the light again ap- 
peared hovering about the slumbering lama; the drumming 
came faster and faster and the end was the same as before, 
but this time it was a young man who rose up, and to my 
intense excitement I saw that he wore a black dress coat and 
trousers, with snowy shirt front and polished boots. In short 
he was in European dress, when no such clothes, let it be 
remembered, were in the possession either of the Doctor or 
myself. 

We watched him breathlessly. For a few seconds he 
seemed to totter, his hands went up and he began to rub his 
eyes. 

Presently he moved forward with uncertain step, as a man 
might walk when treading on thin ice, and extending his 
hands toward me, repeated in that same sepulchral voice, 
a single word: 

Papa! Papa!” 

I was upon my feet in an instant; every drop of blood in 
my veins seemed turned to fire. I was expecting spirits, I 
had even thought of several of my defunct friends whom 
I should have been pleased to see, but I had never thought 
of this. 

Who — who are you?” I gasped. ‘‘In God's name tell 
me — can it be ” 

“ Can it be that I am your boy, papa? Yes; I am no one 
else!” 

He caught both my hands and held them. His were icy 
cold, but they were flesh and blood. 

“Willie!” I murmured. 

“Yes, Willie — your son. I am ever with you, papa. This 
trial is soon to pass. Do not fear.” 

“ But you are a man; my Willie was but a baby!” 

“ Has time ceased, papa? Think of the years? ” 

“Yet not enough for this change.” 

“ Enough and more than enough in the realm of spirit. 
Good-night, papa. Think as kindly of mama^ as you can I” 


MIRRTKH. 


221 


He was going down! Slowly his form sank before my 
eyes until nothing but the head remained visible on the sand. 

Good-night, dear papa! Good-night!** 

Then the head vanished like a puff of smoke! 

** By the immortal Caesar! IVe nothing to say after that!** 
exclaimed the Doctor. “Have you a son dead? Say yes, 
and I*m a Spiritualist from this moment.** ^ 

“ I have.** 

And his name — but look! Look!” 

He paused suddenly and pointed to Padma, who had 
arisen and drawn nearer to us. 

The cause was plain enough. Between the old lama and 
the fire stood two hideous forms. They were men of low 
stature, with enormous heads, ugly and misshapen, great 
bulging eyes and fearful mouths. They kept moving round 
and round in a circle, darting towards us glances of malig- 
nant hate. 

Immediately Padma produced his prayer wheel and began 
grinding it furiously, calling out unintelligible sentences in 
Thibetan. After a moment the two forms sank down and 
vanished, upon which the old lama gave a sigh of relief. 

“They are the spirits of the ancients,** he said; “once 
dwellers in this cavern, where they still linger near their 
bones. They saw their opportunity and seized it, but we 
cannot profitably converse with such as they, so I bade them 
begone.** • 

“ Whence comes this wonderful gift, father? ** I asked. 
“ Explain something of the nature of the phenomena. Was 
that indeed my son with whom I spoke? ** 

“ The gift comes from heaven, as do all the gifts we pos- 
sess, my child. As , for your son you should be the best 
judge. I do not even know that you have a son.** 

“ I lost a son — an infant.** 

“ Nothing is lost. If you ever had a son you have him 
still; the mere fact of his being unable to control the material 
body is nothing. What can annihilate a human soul? Noth- 
ing; not even the will of Buddha. He can absorb, it is 
true, but I say again, nothing is lost.** 

“ But my son was but an infant when he left me — it is 
not so long ago.** 

“ Infants born of intelligent parents soon become men and 
women in the realm of spirit. A few years at the most 
almost always suffices. Often it is but a few months.** 


222 


MIRRIKH. 


You speak as with knowledge. With my people it is 
different. While many claim to believe in the existence of 
spirits, few think of them as other than intangible and 
wholly incomprehensible beings, whose lives are passed in 
eternal rest or eternal suffering. For one to lay claim to 
any accurate information in the matter, is only to excite 
ridicule or persecution for none will believe their claim.'* 

I speak as with knowledge, my son, because I have 
knowledge. The realm of spirit is everywhere. Men may 
question its existence, but this can only be for a short time 
while they remain grossly material in their nature. As for 
your eternal rest, I cannot understand it any more than I 
can your notion of eternal punishment. Does the sun ever 
rest? Does the earth ever cease its revolutions, or the stars 
their own proper motion? Man is born to be useful, and 
rest, which is but a state of mind rather than a condition, 
can only come through constant activity in one’s sphere of 
use. I can see it. in no other light. As for the other — 
punishment may indeed be eternal to such as cannot lay 
aside gross and material thoughts; the punishment of re- 
maining in them, with the spiritual surroundings which such 
thoughts must of necessity bring; but beyond that I cannot 
understand you. Is it of arbitrary punishment by the will 
of the Supreme that you speak? *' 

It is, father — such are the teachings of our’priests.** 

“ Then most grossly are they in error, most densely must 
their minds be steeped in spiritual ignorance. Have they 
no spirit guides to teach them better? I cannot understand 
such a condition of affairs. In this land the masses know 
but little of such matters, it is true, but with the lamas it is 
different. I might say further that we do not always deem 
it best to raise men above their sphere, but we never wil- 
fully deceive as your priests must surely do, for they cannot 
themselves be ignorant of the truth.’* 

** I think^they are, as you view it, father. Some of them 
are most worthy men; but tell me whence comes the power 
to take on the material body in which these forms have ap- 
peared to us?’* 

‘‘ I care not to fully explain. What are our bodies but 
condensations of certain molecules? Mind controls matter. 
If disembodied intelligences so will it, what is to prevent 
the hasty condensation of the molecules and the formation 
of a temporary body in any shape they desire to assume?’* 


MIRRIKH. 


223 

And this is the way the phenomena we have witnessed 
was accomplished?'* 

‘‘ It is." 

“ But those hideous creatures, whence came they? By 
whose will were they sent here?" 

“ That is different. They were not sent here, they were 
here already, as I have told you; have been here for thous- 
ands of years, perhaps. Possibly they were able to draw 
strength from the dry bones which lay scattered all about 
us. It may be so." 

But their hideous faces? Were there ever men such as 
they?" 

“ Very possibly those were not their true faces, but such 
as correspond to their present state." 

“ Correspond to their state? I do not understand you." 

“ Yet it is simple. In the realm of spirit a man appears 
to others as he really is, spiritually. Thus a vile man would 
appear hideous to your eyes, while to himself he seems just 
the reverse." 

“ Do our fears create forms?" asked the Doctor breaking 
in suddenly. 

‘‘ They do," replied Padma;" or rather they draw about us 
spirits of corresponding natures; but I must talk no more. 
There are yet other spirits who would appear, and — ha! We 
have talked too long already! Those fiends have gained 
control of the forces again!" 

A wild, unearthly cry, sounding as at a distance in the 
depths of the cave, suddenly rang out. Instantly came an an- 
swering cry — then another and another until similar cries were 
coming from all directions. Now they seemed close to us; 
again, they would retreat and die away in the distance. Some 
were like the human voice, others like the cries of animals; 
one in particular, which kept coming and going, was start- 
lingly like the whining of a dog in distress. Padma mean- 
while had resumed his prayer wheel and was grinding vigor- 
ously, having enjoined upon us on no account to speak if 
we valued our lives and reason. As for Walla, she was evi- 
dently either asleep or entranced, for through it all she never 
moved. F or perhaps ten minutes these strange sounds contin- 
ued. Padma seemed to be making but little progress in laying 
the spirits which were supposed to haunt the cave. 

Suddenly I felt the Doctor's trembling hand lightly touch 
my arm. He was pointing toward the fire, out of which I 


224 


MIRRIKH. 


could now dimly discern hideous faces peering at us by doz- 
ens. Not only were they in the fire itself, but around and 
above, coming and going, flitting about in every direction. 
For the most part they were recognizably human faces and 
evil-looking beyond description. Not a few animal faces 
were mingled with them, however; these were not the faces 
of modern animal forms, but looked as though they might 
have escaped from the pages of some geological text book, 
freely illustrated with prehistoric creatures. They seemed 
to come and go, as did also the more human faces, with a 
sort of pulsation; beside this the whole mass of faces had a 
rotary movement with the fire for its axis. Words fail when 
I attempt to express the horror which seized me as I gazed. 

By heavens, Wylde, this is worse than the D. Ts!'" whis- 
pered the Doctor. 

Was it the mere act of speech which did the mischief? 

I cannot answer; I only know that instantly as the Doctor 
uttered these words, the whole mass of heads and faces 
seemed to detach itself from the fire and come bounding 
toward us over the sand, enveloped in a milky cloud, while 
the cave fairly rang with wild yells and hideous screeches. 

We sprang to our feet and backed against the wall, for 
retreat was impossible. I do not pretend to analyze the 
Doctor’s feelings, but I know that for the moment my fear 
was intense, and I found myself doing what I had not 
done since my childhood — repeating the prayer for God’s 
protection which I had learned to lisp at my mother’s knee. 

‘‘ Away! Away you devils! Get back to hell!” roared 
the Doctor. 

Then above the terrific din which filled the cavern, old 
Padma’s voice could be distinguished uttering unintelligible 
words in clear distinct tones. 

Suddenly the voices ceased and there was only the old 
lama’s audible; for a moment the bounding mass seemed to 
halt in its advance, though the movement of the faces still 
continued. Then all at once the whole was obliterated and 
we were facing Padma; his eyes were blazing with passion, 
his face livid with rage. 

‘‘Fools! Madmen!” he burst out. “ Would you endanger 
your own lives as well as mine? So much for attempting to 
instruct such minds as yours in our occult mysteries. It is 
enough! My guide spoke truly when he warned me against 
you. Let your fate be upon your own heads!” 


MIRRIKH. 


225 


In vain the Doctor stammered words of apology, but the 
venerable lama seemed not to hear. 

Striding toward his entranced subordinate, he made a few 
hasty passes about his head, whereupon the lama’s eyes were 
opened and he staggered to his feet, reeling like one intoxi- 
cated; most surely would he have fallen had not Padma 
caught him in his arms. 

“ Speak to him! Pacify him!” I whispered to the Doc- 
tor. ** Our lives depend wholly upon him.” 

“ Can’t do it,” was the reply. “ Better wait until he has 
quieted down a bit. He is too furious to listen to any ex- 
planation now.” 

Fatal error! That the Doctor lived to repent his decision 
we shall presently see. 

But the opportunity was lost, for without speaking again, 
Padma, still supporting the young lama, retreated in the di- 
rection of his own quarters and we were left alone. 

I hastened to light the lamp, for the fire was now dying 
down; as I did so I instinctively glanced at Maurice’s face 
and thought I could discern a change. 

I shouted to the Doctor, and held the lamp closer. 

Just then Walla roused up, rubbed her eyes and in a 
trembling voice asked what the matter was; the Doctor put 
the same question, for he was already at my side. 

“Look! look!” I exclaimed. “Moisture on the fore- 
head!” 

“ Don’t^deceive yourself, George; it is all your excited im- 
agination. No! By the gods, it’s a fact!” 

At the same instant I felt a rush of cold air pass my face 
and even as we looked the eyelids began to twitch. 

We gazed in breathless silence. I could see Walla’s big, 
black orbs dilate. I could hear the quick beating of my 
own heart. 

Suddenly a convulsive shudder was seen to pass over the 
body; the eyes opened and fixed themselves upon mine. 

“ Maurice! Maurice!” I shouted, springing forward. 

But Walla was before me. With a wild cry she flung 
herself upon his breast. 

Now indeed were we face to face with a mighty mystery; 
now indeed was the promise of the man Mirrikh fulfilled. 

If his words were truth, if my own strange experiences 
were facts and not fancies, then Maurice had returned 
from Mars. 


CHAPTER XXIIl. 


DESERTED. 

“Maurice! Oh Maurice! Speak to me, Maurice! For 
God’s sake tell me this is real! ” 

He pushed Walla aside with a look of* loathing, and 
raising himself to a sitting position spoke, for we had al- 
ready torn off the bagging in which his body was swathed. 

“ George! ” 

“ Oh Maurice! ” 

I am not ashamed to own it. I was crying like a child. 
I bent forward and would have flung my arms about him, 
when to my dismay he thrust me away too. 

“No, no! Don’t do that! ” he cried. “You musn’t do 
it! Where is she? I can’t see her. Where is she, George?” 

I felt a shiver pass over me. Was he mad? 

“ Do you mean Walla? She is here, Maurice.” 

The girl stood facing him; her lips tightly set, her face as 
livid as the face of a corpse. 

“ No, no! I don’t mean Walla at all. You know very 
well who I mean, George Wylde. You saw her in Mars, 
Mirrikh told me so. Where is she, I say? ” • 

“I do not understand you,” I replied. “Try and pull 
yourself together, old fellow. Your mind is wandering. 
Doctor, for God’s sake do something. He is madJ Unless 
there is help we shall lose him again.” 

“ What can I do? ” groaned the Doctor. 

“ I will call Padma! ” 

“To the mischief with Padma! We have had enough of 
him. Maurice, my dear boy, your mind is wandering a bit, 
and no wonder. You have had a fearful experience. 
Try ” 

“Stop! Let me think! Do not speak to me until I 
speak to you.” 

He buried his face in his hands and for several moments 
remained silent. I looked around to see if Walla had 
grown calmer. To my surprise I saw her gliding off into 
the darkness. Most sincerely did I pity the girl, but what 


MIRRIKH. 


227 


could I do for her? She loved him, he had rejected her. 
Words were not necessary to convey to a mind so open to 
impression as hers the true state of Maurice De Veber's 
heart. 

Silently the Doctor and I stood contemplating him until 
at length the hands were removed. 

I started back in amazement. What I saw the Doctor 
saw also; he uttered a quick exclamation of astonishment. 

The whole appearance of Maurice’s face had changed. 

It was Maurice and it was not Maurice. 

Every feature was altered; every line had softened; there 
was an indescribable beauty about the countenance of my 
friend which was wholly unnatural. Even his voice was 
different; it was no longer the deep voice of Maurice, but 
pitched in a higher key. 

George Wylde! ” he said almost stiffly; I want to feel 
that you mean to stand by me whatever happens. I have passed 
‘through a wonderful experience, I am passing through the 
most wonderful part of it now, and I need all your help and 
sympathy.” 

‘‘And you shall have it, Maurice — you have it already, 
my dear boy.” 

“ And you. Doctor, are not to question me. Hear me, my 
friends: I do not know how long a time has elapsed since I 
parted from you, but of all that has happened during that 
time I have nothing to tell — absolutely nothing. Do you 
understand ?” 

His voice rose almost to a shriek as he spoke these last 
words. His whole frame trembled with emotion. Tears 
sprang to his eyes. 

The Doctor behaved splendidly. 

“There there! Don’t disturb yourself! No one is going 
to question you,” he answered. “ Are you hungry? Would 
you not like something to ejjt? ” 

“ I — I suppose so. I do not know. The thought of food 
nauseates me, and yet I suppose I had better take it. How 
long is it, George? ” 

“ A month,” I answered gloomily. 

“ Only a month! It seems years! And you got back 
safely. I did not see you, old fellow, but Mirrikh did. A 
wonderful man that! Oh God, to come back to this dreary 
world again after the life I have been leading! It is hor- 
rible! Horrible! But that is not the worst.” 


228 


MIRRIKH. 


“ What can you mean? ” I breathed. 

‘‘Which is the worst? To suffer yourself or drag those 
you love into torment? he asked fiercely. 

And as he spoke his face completely changed. Again he 
was Maurice — Maurice speaking in deadly earnest, if not in 
anger — then like a flash the face was transformed again, be- 
came as before, and over it spread a sad smile. 

“ Do not be angry with — with me,"' he said. “ I cannot 
help it. I am not fully master of myself.'* 

I was too deeply concerned for anger. Was he indeed 
mad? If not, then what did it all mean? 

“You shall have food at once," I said. “ Meanwhile can 
you bear being left alone a moment? " 

“ Why certainly; but stay, I want to know where I am. 
What place is this? This is not the chamber from which I 
started on my journey to Mars? " 

“No; it is not. Great changes have come to us since 
then, Maurice. Let me advise you not to question us now. 
Later on we will tell you " 

“No! No! Now! Tell me now! " 

“ Would you object to letting me feel your pulse, Mau- 
rice? " asked the Doctor. 

He submitted quietly enough. The Doctor performed 
the operation and dropped the hand without comment. 

“ Why don't you stand up? " he asked. 

“ Because I do not chose to." 

“ Are you in pain? " 

“Yes — no! " 

“ Which? " 

“ No— no? " 

“ I should like to see you walk a few steps." 

“ But you won't! " he flashed, and again that marvelous 
change of facial expression came and went. 

The Doctor would have p^jessed him further, but he 
turned beseechingly to me. 

“ George, won't you tell me?" 

I told him all. I could not refuse. 

He listened, making no comment until I had uttered the 
last word. 

“ Then our situation is desperate? " 

“ Most desperate." 

“ Even if we escape from the cave there is no help 
for us? " 


MIRRIKH. 


229 


‘‘ None, it would seem.'* 

‘‘Yet Mirrikh promised," he murmured, “and I shall 
trust him. Have no fear, George. We shall escape from 
this peril. We shall see New York again." 

“ God grant it! But let me say a word in behalf of 
Walla, Maurice. Though humble enough and of another 
race than ours, the poor girl loves you. Be kind to her, 
Maurice. If you could have seen the devotion with which 
she watched over you; if " 

“Say no more! " he interrupted. “ I shall be kind, but 
if, as you say, she loves me, then she must learn to unlove. 
Of course you understand " 

“Of course, of course; but you wounded her feelings 
terribly." 

“ Cannot you mend matters? I thought you were mad 
about the girl yourself." 

I shook my head. 

“ I have passed out of that state long ago, Maurice. I did 
not know myself." 

“No; but I know you, George; I know you better now 
than ever before. You need not explain further. The gas 
has done its work for you as well as for me." 

“ It has! God knows it has." 

I thought then of that face and its heavenly beauty. It 
seemed as if a single word was whispered in my ear. 

“ Hope!” 

I heard it! I positively declare I heard it. The voice 
was as real as was Maurice’s which followed, asking for 
something to eat. 

And thus in sadness and mystery began the night of Mau- 
rice’s return; a night of horrors which will never cease to 
be present in my waking moments, or to disturb my dreams. 

“ I will go and fetch some rice," said the Doctor. “ Come 
Wylde, I have a word to say." 

I glanced at Maurice, but he made no objection and with 
the Doctor’s hand upon my arm I walked into the shadows. 
It was not until we were out of hearing that he spoke. 

“ I want you to prepare yourself for the worst, he said. 

“ What do you mean? ’’ 

“ I mean that Maurice can’t live. It is useless for me to 
kick against the pricks any longer. I own that all this is 
wonderful, most mysterious; but there is something seriqusly 


230 


MIRRIKH. 


wrong with our friend, physically. Did you ever hear of a 
man having a double pulse, George Wylde? 

A double pulse! I am entirely at a loss to understand 
you. What in heaven's name do you mean by a double 
pulse? " 

I mean precisely what I say. I was impressed to feel 
his pulse. I cannot tell you why, but so it was. There are 
two beats for every one.” 

“ Do you mean two beats together? ” 

I mean two separate and distinct beats together and in 
the same second of time.” 

You must be mad, Doctor. Who ever heard of such a 
thing? ” 

I never did — that I swear. Furthermore, I swear that 
I am not mad. Indeed I am strongly inclined to believe 
that I am the only thoroughly sane person in this cave.” 

He spoke further in the same strain; he positively as- 
sured me of the truth of his marvelous statement, and reit- 
erated his belief that there was something all wrong with 
Maurice’s heart, and that unless an immediate change came 
he could not long survive. After a moment I left him, and 
while he went on to fetch the rice I started to return. 

I had not gone far before I perceived Walla coming 
toward me, springing from heaven knew where — the cave was 
full of turns and corners — she held up her hand warningly, 
and pointed in the direction of Maurice. 

‘‘What is it, Walla?” I asked kindly. 

“ What ails him? Is he going to die? ” she murmured. 

“I hope not. God grant that he may not.” 

“ Something is wrong? ” 


“What is it?” 

“I cannot explain. Something about his heart.” 

“ His heart! No! Not that! He is mad! He is talking 
gibberish! He must be mad for he drives me from him — I 
who would lay down my life to save his!” 

She caught me by the hand and drew me to a place where 
a projecting point in the rock wall enabled us to watch 
Maurice unseen. 

He was sitting just as we had left him. Although I thought 
myself prepared for anything I was certainly not prepared 
foi hat followed. 



"aurice was talking in two languages. At one moment 


MIRRIKH. 


23 


he spoke in English, the next and he seemed to answer him- 
self in an unknown tongue; and the faint glow of the lamp 
striking full upon his face I saw those same wondrous 
changes come and go. When he spoke in English it was 
Maurice's face which was turned toward me, his deep voice 
which uttered the words; but when he suddenly broke out 
in what Walla called gibberish, the face grew almost femi- 
nine in its beauty and the voice changed to that of a woman. 
It is so! I swear it! It was a most marvelous thing to 
watch those transformations come and go. 

** But what was he saying? 

The first I heard was: 

“For God’s sake tell me the worst. Can there never be 
a change? " 

Strange words in that other voice followed. 

“ But what am I to do? ” 

Again the answer. Let me give something of this most 
peculiar conversation. The words spoken in the unknown 
tongue I must represent by dashes. I can do nothing else. 

“ I can never live so. I feel a sense of suffocation as 
though I was going to burst.” 

H i» 

“Will time make it easier?” 

<< >» 

“ No; I cannot rise. The weight holds me down.” 

« M 

“I will try to walk if you insist upon it; but I know I 
shall fall.” 

He tottered to his feet, and staggered a few steps, precisely 
as a man might walk who was bearing a heavy burden. It 
was painful to watch him. I should have spoken now but 
something appeared to restrain me. In a moment he seemed 
to give it up, and retreating to the stone bench, sank down 
panting, 

“ It is no use. I can’t do it. I cm never walk this way!” 

<( »» 

“ Can we not return? ” 

a _____ M 

“ But what about my friends? I can never control myself. 
If I escape from this place and return to my own country 
they will put me into a lunatic asylum, for I cannot hope to 
make them understand.” 


232 


MIRRIKH. 


You say there is one who will understand me — do you 
mean George Wylde? ** 

i< ** 

Shall I tell him? 

it »* 

I fear even him/* 

At this point a hand was suddenly laid upon my arm. I 
looked around expecting to see Walla, but instead saw the 
Doctor. He was holding a bowl of rice and looking at me 
questioningly. To my surprise I perceived that Walla had 
again disappeared. 

Strange creature! I never understood her. Sometimes 
now I find myself wondering if it was all her love for Mau- 
rice; if her father’s terrible fate had not left its mark upon 
the poor girl’s brain. 

“ What is it? What’s the matter? ” demanded the Doctor. 

I was watching Maurice,” I said, hurriedly explaining. 

What did I tell you? We are not out of the woods with 
Maurice yet by a good deal.” 

‘‘ But how do you account for it? By the way, did you 
meet Walla? She was here a second ago, but seems to have 
vanished again.” 

No; I saw nothing of her. As for accounting for Mau- 
rice’s present condition I don’t profess to be able to do it. 
You who lay claim to having taken a planetary journey 
yourself ought to understand better than I; but he seems 
to be sitting perfectly quiet. Weren’t you mistaken?” 

No, no! He has stopped talking. He hears us. It is 
no use now.” 

Maurice ate the rice with no show of hunger. I make 
this statement particularly, for I want it understood that 
whatever may be said of his spirit, his physical body had 
received no nourishment for a full month — to this I api pre- 
pared to swear. 

When we finished eating, the Doctor, with many a sigh, 
produced the pipe and the last remnant of the tobacco. 

“ There you are, old man,” he said. I know you must 
be dying for a smoke. I have tried to keep your pipe from 
drying up the best I could.” 

So far Maurice had maintained a gloomy silence, but to 
my infinite relief it was now my friend’s dear face at which 
I was looking) not the other one; that, beautiful though it 
was, I had almost come to fear. 


MIRRIKH. 


233 


“Well, upon my word, Doctor, I believe I should ^Xi]oy a 
smoke,” he answered almost cheerfully. 

He took the pipe and began to fill it, while the Doctor 
kept rattling away. 

“ Had a smoke since you left, Maurice?” 

“ Oh yes!” 

“ They smoke in Mars then.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Can’t you relent and tell us something? George was 
kinder. He told me his experience.” 

“ I can tell you nothing. Doctor, but I would like to ask 
you one question and George another.” 

“I’ll be forgiving then and answer. Fire away.” 

“ Do you believe that I have actually been to Mars?” 

The Doctor hesitated. 

“ Why as to that, I hardly know what to say,” he replied. 
“ Since you left us, Maurice,''my mind has been in a curious- 
ly muddled state. So many strange things have been forced 
upon me that in spite of reason I have been obliged to 
waver in my utter disbelief in the spiritual. I know Wylde 
to be a man of positive and unimaginative character. I 
know that he would not wilfully deceive me, and I am will- 
ing to believe that he thinks he went to Mars. Further than 
that, there is my own experience, of which he has, perhaps, 
told you. I thought I went to Mars and said as much when 
I came to my senses. That is about where I stand. I am 
bound'to admit also that the inhaling of the gas, be its nature 
what it may, produces effects altogether beyond the range 
of medical knowledge. I am entirely willing to believe, my 
dear fellow, that you honestly think you have visited the 
planet Mars. Indeed I will go a step further and admit that 
I haven’t a doubt that I, had I inhaled the gas would now 
entertain some such notion myself.” 

“ Then you do not believe that I have actually visited 
Mars?” 

“ No. I believe you have been in a condition wholly ab- 
normal, your supposed experiences emanating from your 
own brain.” 

“ Good! Now we understand each other. Let me say 
that my experiences were as real to me as ever the ex- 
periences of any month of your life on earth have been to 
you. Now George, for your question. Do you believe that 
while I was absent I paid you a visit?” 


234 


MIRRIKH. 


‘‘I do/' I replied firmly. I doubt no longer; I believe 
it all." 

What is this? What is this?" cried the Doctor. ‘‘ Some- 
thing I have not heard?" 

‘‘Tell him, George." 

I related my experience with Walla in the courtyard at 
Psam-dagong; of course I did not tell the Doctor of the 
warning spoken against himself. 

“ And do you claim to have controlled Walla's spirit at 
that time? he asked of Maurice. 

“Oh no!" 

“ What then?" 

“ I controlled her brain, her lips. I merely spoke through 
her physical organs. How her spirit was disposed of I know 
no more than you do." 

“ And did you know what you were doing; were you con- 
scious of speaking with George?" 

“ Certainly." 

“Supposing yourself to be in Mars at the time?" 

“ Not supposing — being in Mars at the time. Such 
things are common enough there. Mental telegraphy is there 
universally practiced and its operators as well recognized as 
an ordinary telegraph operator here. I desired to speak 
with George, and Mirrikh took me to one of those persons, 
that is all. The first thing I knew I was speaking with 
George and heard him speak to me." 

“ But tell me, Maurice," I said; “ has the question of dis- 
tance anything at all to do with it?" 

“ Nothing whatever. It is simply a question of spiritual 
influx. ’If you desire to speak with a person at a distance, 
you must have a medium or operator at each end of the 
line, and either know the person yourself or find some one 
who does know him. If I am en rapport with you, it would 
be just as easy for a professional human telegrapher to assist 
me to address you at a distance of ten million miles as ten; 
while for me to attempt to converse with one with whom I 
was not en rapport^ would be impossible at a distance of ten 
feet" 

“ By Jove! It would be a deuced good idea if you could 
strike up a communication with Mirrikh and get from him 
a letter of safe conduct out of this infernal country!" ex- 
claimed the Doctor. “ Eh, Maurice? What do you think 
of that?" 


MIRRIKH. 


235 

I think it as unnecessary as it is under existing cond’tions 
impossible. Before we parted, Mr. Mirrikh promised that 
matter should be attended to, and rely upon it he will 
keep his word. By the way, George, he sent his warmest re- 
gards to you, and to you too. Doctor. He said that it was 
not likely he should ever return to earth again for a perma- 
nent stay, but if he did he should certainly look you up.’* 

‘^Then by Jove! I hope he won’t look me up!” growled 
the Doctor; ‘Hor my part I’ve seen quite enough of him.” 

Maurice laughed; begging a match of me he proceeded 
to light the pipe. 

^^Ah, this is like old times,” he said, giving two or three 
preliminary puffs. 

For ten or fifteen minutes we sat there chatting quite 
comfortably. Indeed Maurice was so much the old Mau- 
rice that I was just beginning to wonder if it would not 
come around all right, when all at once he was seized with a 
most violent fit of coughing and choking and the pipe 
dropped from his hand. 

Oh God! Oh! Oh! This is frightful!” he groaned. ** Oh, 
I am suffocating! I’ve done it now! George! George! 
Help her! Help!” 

He pressed his hand to his forehead, half arose, but in- 
stantly fell back again, his face deathly white. 

Then relief came, and the Doctor felt that his efforts to 
increase the consumption of rice in this section of Thibet 
had been wasted. As he gasped and choked I saw that 
strange look creep over his face again, and with it came a 
change of speech, and Maurice began muttering wildly in 
the unknown tongue. 

^'Tobacco sick, by Jove!” cried the Doctor. ‘‘An old 
smoker too! Can’t account for it. What’s he mumbling 
about? What did hejmean by upon calling you to help herl ” 

“ Let us help I answered hastily. “ Come Doctor, 

we must get him to my bed.” 

“ Which being of sand is a shade softer than the stone. 
All right, my boy. Maurice, you’ll have to walk now.” 

But there was no Maurice to answer us so far as intel- 
ligence went. He kept on muttering strange words and 
wept, holding out his hands beseechingly. The Doctor took 
him on one side and I on the other and together we raised 
him up. It was painful to witness the struggle he made to 
walk. He would plant one foot forward and hold on to us 


236 


MIRRIKH. 


desperately while he dragged the other to its proper posi- 
tion, talking all the while in that same unknown language. 
At last we succeeded in getting him to the place where I 
usually slept and laid him down. In a few moments he 
sank off to sleep. 

Long the Doctor and I sat watching him, discussing his 
strange condition in all its bearings. The face turned to- 
ward us was in no sense Maurice’s; we studied it carefully 
and were both of the opinion that it was a face in which the 
feminine strongly predominated. I took occasion to feel 
not only of the pulse but also the heart several times. That 
the pulse had a double action was undeniable, and it was 
precisely the same with the heart. We could feel two dis- 
tinct beats with each throb it gave. The Doctor made a 
most careful examination of the lungs also, but could de- 
tect no difference there. 

^‘One thing is certain, George,” he said at last; ^^your 
friend has come back to us in a most remarkable condition. 
If he survives it will be a miracle. His whole internal 
organism seems to be deranged.” 

Suppose we call Padma in consultation?” I suggested. 

He must be over his anger by this time. I’m sure he will 
not refuse.” 

To this the Doctor agreed, and as he had been the offend- 
ing party, it was decided that I should be the one to go and 
fetch the old lama, and I accordingly started down the cave 
in the darkness, expecting to see the light which the lamas 
always kept burning as soon as I rounded a certain angle, 
for between our quarters and those of the lamas the cave 
took a sharp turn. 

Soon I caught the glimmer of the lamp and hurried for- 
ward more rapidly. I thought it a bit strange that I did not 
see Ni-fan-lu or one of the other lamas on guard, for one in- 
variably watched while his companions slept, but not one of 
them was visible now. 

How still it was! I believe the slightest sound would 
have caused me to start in terror, for the recollection of 
those unearthly visitants was still strong upon me. At last 
I reached the lamp, which rested upon a large flat stone 
around which the lamas usually lay at night, and to my 
astonishment could not discover a soul. 

Like a flash the truth dawned upon me. I seized the 
lamp and hurried toward a small recess where Padma slept 
fdone. 


MIRRIKH. 


237 


This was also vacant. Back again into the open cave I 
flew, and flashed the lamp toward the corner where the lam- 
as kept the bags and various belongings sent down the shute 
from Psam-dagong. Not a vestige of any of these articles 
remained. 

“ They have deserted us! I murmured, striving to be 
calm; they have deserted and Ah Schow has gone with 
them! It is long past midnight, and this must be the 
morning of the day they have been looking forward to. 
This is Padma’s revenge.’* 

With tottering steps I moved toward the canon. The 
rawhide bridge over which the lamas had toiled so patiently 
was missing too, and I strained my eyes as I approached the 
mouth of the cave, expecting to see it laid across the rift. 

Now the roar of the torrent greeted me. I could hear 
the water’s swash against the rocky walls as it went tumbling 
through the chasm. Then a splash of rain struck my face, 
and my ears caught another sound. It was the rushing of 
the wind through the canon, and I knew that the storm was 
still raging above us. Ten steps more and I had reached 
the brink. 

The bridge was there! Oh yes, it was there! I could see it 
with hideous distinctness as I flashed the light across the rift. 

At my feet was the iron peg driven into the rock, by which 
it had been fastened, but the bridge lay all in a heap on the 
other side of the canon, close to the entrance of the passage. 
By what occult power it had been conveyed there, God alone 
could tell, but there it was, and who could question that over 
it the last lama had crossed, and then, doubtless by Padma’s 
direction, our escape had been cut off. 

We were deserted. Left alone to face the horrors of the 
cave until Death should come to our relief! 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


HOPE. 

*‘Gone! Do you mean to tell me that they are all gone?’* 
cried the Doctor, when I broke the news. 

“ Gone to a man, and Ah Schow with them. The bridge 
lies upon the other side of the canon. We have been aband- 
oned to our fate! ’* 

The Doctor gave an exclamation of despair. 

“My God! My Godl This is terrible!** he breathed. 
“ I would never have dreamed that mild old man could use 
us so! It is all my fault, George! All mine, every bit of it. 
From the first moment I met you on the stairs of the old 
tower of the Nagkon Wat, I have been nothing but a dead 
weight upon you, a perpetual handicap, a Jonah, a curse.” 

“ Do not upbraid yourself,” I answered, for his distress 
was most painful. “ It was perfectly natural for you to 
speak. Let us waste no time in idle regrets. We must 
decide upon some definite course of action, and follow it 
without delay.” 

“Oh there’s time enough! God knows there’s time 
enough! Is the rice all gone too?” 

“ I didn’t look into the corner where the provisions were 
stored.” 

“ Then I will go and do that much! Hark! What voice 
was that? Some of those devils back to mock us in our 
misery? Merciful powers! Is the mountain falling down?” 

The sound first heard was a sharp cracking, followed im- 
mediately by an awful crash. The ground beneath us shook 
with great violence. Maurice raised up and began mutter- 
ing unintelligible words. 

“ An earthquake! ” gasped the Doctor. “This is to be our 
end! ” 

At the moment I could but agree with him; we stood 
breathlessly listening, the noise dying away into an ill-defin- 
ed rumble and then all was still. 

“ Surely that was an earthquake shock,” said the Doctor. 

“ I cannot imagine what else it could have been,” I an- 


MIRRIKH. 


239 

swered, and yet Thibet is not an earthquake country. ’’ 

'' Who knows whether it is or not? Who knows anything 
about it? Who can tell where we are? ” 

“ In my opinion it is much more likely to have been a 
landslide, caused by the rain." 

^'By Jove! Youve hit it, George! No doubt you are 
right, and weVe heard the last of it. Here, let me have the 
lamp and 1 11 go and have a look around for myself. See 
what Maurice is talking about, if you can make out.” 

Has he spoken before? ” 

“ No.” 

And Walla? ” 

‘' I have seen nothing of the girl. It wouldn’t surprise 
me if she had wandered off into the depths of the cavern 
and lost herself; or like as not she has committed suicide. 
Her’s is one of those dreamy, over-morbid natures. For 
weeks she has lived in the anticipation of Maurice’s return, 
and now that he is back again and has rejected her. Lord 
knows what the effect may be.” 

He caught up the lamp which I had brought with me 
from the outer cavern and hurried away. I turned to Mau- 
rice who had now risen to a sitting position; his face was 
toward me, the eyes were filled with tears, the hands ex- 
tended pleadingly as though beseeching help — help which I 
could not give. 

“ What is the trouble? ” I asked, seating myself beside 
him. “ That noise was nothing. If you heard my startling 
disclosure let me beseech you to try and be something like 
your old self once more. I need your help, Maurice — I do 
indeed.” 

Not to my surprise, but to my infinite sorrow, he began rat- 
ling on in that same strange way. I listened attentively. It 
was certainly a definite language he was speaking. Its sounds 
were soft and extremely melodious, far more so even than 
Spanish. As my ear grew accustomed to them I could de- 
tect the frequent repetition of certain particular word*?. 
‘‘This,” I thought, “ must be one of the languages of Mars.” 

“ I cannot understand you old fellow,” I said, sadly. “ It 
is no use. Awhile ago you had no difficulty in speaking 
English. Why not do it now? ” 

Again he broke into weeping and laying his head against 
my breast sobbed like a child. I put my arm around him, 
stroked his hair and spoke soothing words. Did he under- 


240 


MIRRIKH. 


Stand me? Perhaps not, but the calmness or my sphere 
seemed to sooth him and gradually he grew quiet, even 
smiled. 

Now suddenly he pulled himself away and pointed to his 
face, indicating each feature separately. I felt that he 
wanted me to fully appreciated the change which had come 
upon him, but there was no need to call my attention to it, 
for I appreciated it already. Certainly it was not Maurice’s 
face upon which I gazed; just as surely was it the face of a 
woman. I was puzzled beyond all telling, but I strove to 
retain my calmness, feeling that thus my power to help him 
must be greater. 

Suddenly he began rubbing his face with both hands in 
the most violent fashion and I saw his whole frame tremble. 
Once he groaned; again a sharp cry of pain escaped him, 
then the hands fell and the strange expression had gone. 

Now it was a man’s face — it was the face of Maurice De 
Veber, my friend! 

What was this? What was it? What wondrous change 
had come over Maurice since we parted in the lamasery of 
Psam-dagong? 

‘‘George!” 

He called my name — something he had not done since 
he dropped the pipe. 

“ Oh Maurice! My poor friend!” 

“Pity me, George. I’m in an awful fix!” 

“ Pity you! Maurice I am ready to lay down my life for 
you. But while you are able to talk intelligently, let me ask 
you if you know that the lamas have deserted us — that all 
hope of escape from this cave has been cut off? ” 

“ Yes, yes, I know all.” 

“ Then you could understand me even though I was not able 
to understand you.” 

“ I did not hear you, George, but she did — she told me.” 

“ Maurice, you will drive me mad. In God’s name who 
is this mysterious She to whom you keep alluding? ” 

He looked about warily. 

“ Where is the Doctor? ” he whispered. “ He must not 
know.” 

“ He has gone to look into our situation.” 

“He is out of hearing?” 

“ Oh yes. What is it Maurice? Explain your condition. 
I doubt if you can realize how desperate it appears to us.” 


MIRRIKH. 


241 


“ Indeed I do, and to me.” 

But will you explain? ” 

‘'To you, yes; but not to him, ever. Pity me, George. 
I am a lost man. I have committed a fatal error. May 
God send death quickly to my relief.” 

“ Tell me— tell me all! This suspense drives me mad! 
Maurice, tell me! I can bear this no longer, my friend.” 

“ Nor shall you,” he said, speaking very rapidly. “George, 
prepare your mind for a mystery; a mystery greater by far 
than any of the many mysteries with which you have been 
brought in contact since you first met Mr. Mirrikh in the 
streets of Panompin. George, I have brought a woman back 
with me from MarsT 

I sprang to my feet, and extended my hands towards him. 

“ Don't, Maurice! Don’t give way to it! Hold your reason! 
Don’t allow yourself to think of it again.” 

“ George, it’s a solemn fact. We are here together. I love 
her, George! I love her with an intensity bred of the condi- 
tions of the planet to which Mirrikh took me, and of which 
you can form no conception. She is my wife, George. I 
married her on Mars!” 

It was maddening to listening to him, yet I restrained 
myself. I saw that he must be indulged. 

“ Well, well, old fellow, if you say so, of course it must 
be so; but — you will excuse me for asking the question — 
where have you left her? You will have to admit she is not 
here? ” 

Suddenly a sound reached my ears. It was a groan — it 
seemed to come from behind Maurice. If he heard he 
showed it by no sign. 

“ But she is here, George. More than that you have seen 
her, you have talked with her. George, you cannot com- 
prehend it — it is incomprehensible. My wife is within me. 
We are two souls in one body. Heavens! Only think of 
it! If we ever do get home they will clap me into a lunatic 
asylum as sure as fate. Oh George, George! Would to 
gracious I had listened to the advice of Mirrikh and been 
content to wait until death released us both, and we 
could meet in the spirit world.” 

“ So Mirrikh advised you against it? ” 

“He did — most earnestly. You see the time had come 
when I was to return. They told me it was either that or 
death, for my body would be destroyed if I delayed longer. 


242 


MIRRIKH. 


They spoke of peril threatening you, George, and that 
helped to influence me. We talked of parting, but it was 
no use, we couldn’t do it. She’s the dearest creature, 
George, but oh her weight is something awful! Tell me — 
tell me, what am I to do? ” 

I shook my head helplessly. 

‘‘ Do you mean to say that ” 

‘‘ I mean to tell you just that; Merzilla, my wife, is inside 
of me at the present moment, George, as truly as I am in 
my body myself. You grasp the situation; besides that you 
must remember her for Mirrikh said you saw her when you 
were on Mars.” 

“ Do you refer to the girl who stood beside you when 
Mirrikh delivered his lecture before that great assemblage?” 

“ Yes, yes!” he cried joyfully. Then you actually were 
there? If I had only known it! He said so afterward — 
but of course I couldn’t see you. Yes, George, that’s the 
girl. Tell me, what do you think of her? Isn’t she the most 
superb creature? Heavens! It is frightful to think of the 
situation we are in? Why, that bit of a smoke almost killed 
her, and as .for the rice — well, just fancy offering her rice to 
eat. Oh, if you had only staid longeron Mars!” 

Maurice,” I said firmly; ‘‘this thing must stop right 
here. We must come to an immediate understanding, for 
the Doctor may be back at any moment. Evidently you 
believe these strange assertions and you have done well to 
tell me, for I am beginning to believe you have some foun- 
dation for them. At first they were so startling as to banish 
even memory; but memory has now returned, Maurice. My 
dear boy, I fear that I, of all men on this earth, alone 
can comprehend you. In a situation somewhat resembling 
yours I have been myself.” 

“ You, George!” 

“Yes; even I. Listen.” 

I tcld him then of Hope; described even to the minutest 
details my own strange experiences after inhaling the gas. I 
concealed nothing and yet a moment before I would have 
perished rather than disclose that which I had come to 
cherish as the most holy of memories.” 

His sense of relief was so manifest as he listened that I 
was forced, in spite of myself, to in some measure credit his 
astounding claim. 

“ You have described it to a hair, George; and there’s no 


MIRRIKH. 


243 


use saying another word. You met your soul’s mate and 
parted with her again. I have mine within me. We could 
not part. We were warned, but we resolved to take our 
chances. If we could only manage to walk it wouldn’t be 
so bad.” 

Let me try and understand you,” I said, earnestly. ‘'Do 
you actually feel her bodily weight? It cannot be, even al- 
lowing ” 

“ Even allowing I’m sane! Out with it. No, it is not 
exactly that! It is a sort of brain pressure. I feel like a man 
whose hat is too tight for him; as though a lump of iron 
was on my head. When I try to move I cannot control my 
limbs. With my poor girl it is even worse, for when she 
takes control, the very air seems to stifle her and your voices 
sound hideous. She is furiously jealous about Walla too. 
Oh dear, I’m sure I don’t see what we are going to do.” 

I stared at him helplessly. In spite of my own confes- 
sion any one might have seen that I was not fully converted 
even yet. 

Just then I thought I heard a groan again, but as before 
Maurice paid no heed. 

“ You see we can’t both make my physical brain act at 
once George,” he continued. “ When I take control my in- 
dividuality is in the ascendant and that gives me my natural 
expression and lets me talk to you as I am talking now, but 
when she takes hold I am obliterated, pushed out of exist- 
ence for the time being, as it were. Then my face becomes 
transfigured until it looks almost like hers, she tells me, and 
she can only talk to you in her own language; but we 
neither of us seem able to fully control the body; perhaps 
we may learn in time.” 

“ It is a desperate situation, Maurice. I am trying to 
comprehend it, but it comes very hard.” 

“ And if you find it hard what on earth will others do? 
Mirrikh told me that it was madness, but I listened to the 
advice of another, an over-enthusiastic fellow who claimed 
to have lived double on Jupiter. You see it’s very common 

for man and wife to occupy one body on Jupiter, and ” 

Stop!” I interrupted. ‘‘ I beg you will stop! Whatever 
you may know about these matters you will do well to keep 
to yourself. Later, perhaps, you and I may talk them over, 
but what we want now is to devise some plan to get you out 
of your desperate fix?” 


244 


MIRRIKH. 


‘‘ Exactly, but what can be done? Merzilla must either 
have a body or remain inside of me.” 

‘‘ Her name is Merzilla?” 

‘‘Yes. Do you not think it pretty? It means ” 

“ No matter! No matter! Let me think!” 

“There's one thing I may as well tell you, George; you 
will believe it or not, as you like. I was informed before I 
left Mars that if we could catch upon a woman in the very 
act of dying, Merzilla could, under certain conditions, seize 
her body, enter into it and reanimate it. Of course I don’t 
understand how, but on Mars ” 

“ Of course you will never mention it again if you want 
to avoid the asylum you feared just now.” 

“ Oh I suppose it’s no use. Of course we can find no 
such chance, though it’s almost enough to tempt a fellow 
into murder. Then there is the question of eating. They 
don’t eat such food as we do on Mars. I know just how to 
provide for Merzilla if I could only get about, and in time 
she would learn to eat our dishes, but so long as I can’t con- 
trol my legs, what am I to do?” 

“ You are to stop talking now,” I whispered hurriedly, 
“ for here comes the Doctor, and — bless me! It is Walla 
back again! Has she been listening! Has the poor girl 
heard?” 

Out of the darkness behind us Walla was seen gliding. 
There was a peculiar calmness about her face; she tottered 
toward us and sank down upon the sand at Maurice’s 
feet. 

“I will help you, my friend, my love!” she murmured. “If 
I cannot have your heart, at least I can relieve your suffer- 
ing. Take my life! Take it! Let the woman who has 
your love have my body also. Then when my spirit is free 
I shall be able to remain ever at your side! Do it, Maurice! 
Oh, my love do it! I will be your wife in spirit! Let her 
have my body, and all will be well.” 

“ I listened, awe-stricken by her very earnestness.” 

Where I accepted most dubiously, she seemed to grasp 
the situation and give full credence to Maurice’s amazing 
claim. She meant it all — she meant every word she ut- 
tered. To Walla there was no moral chord strained in the 
thought of sharing Maurice’s heart with another. To her 
ideas, being with Maurice in spirit was as real as being with 
him in the body. On the principle “ better half the loaf 


MIRRIKH. 


245 


than no bread/* she was not only willing but anxious to 
make the sacrifice and ease the strain all around. 

But I doubt if Maurice quite understood her at first. 

“ No, no! You talk nonsense — ridiculous nonsense!’* he 
muttered pettishly, but he had not the heart to push her 
away. 

It was most painful to watch her. She fairly grovelled at 
his feet, kissing his knees and trying to seize his hand. 

“ No, no! Get up! Get up girl!” he cried. ** Take her 
away George! For God’s sake, take her away!” 

Really I wonder I had not attempted to interfere before, 
but something seemed to restrain me. Was it the same in- 
fluence which kept one word forever ringing in my ears? 
Possibly. Need I write the word? Need I say that it was: 

Hope!** 

Suddenly Walla’s wild ejaculations ceased and a convulsive 
shudder swept through her whole frame; she sank back upon 
the sand, trembling and twitching. I thought I knew what 
was coming, but I did not speak, for the change which now 
came over Maurice took all my thought. 

He leaped up with a wild shout and began running about 
over the sand. 

** She is gone, George! She is gone! Oh God! send her 
back again. Don’t let her go!” 

There was something in it. I felt then that there must 
be something in it; but still I was restrained from speaking, 
and in an instant Walla staggered to her feet. Her eyes 
were closed and the lids kept twitching. The expression of 
her face had altered somewhat. It was softer — more refined. 
She made one rush toward Maurice, speaking rapidly, unin- 
telligible words. 

“ Merzilla! My Merzilla!’* he murmured brokenly; open- 
ing his arms he folded her to his breast. 

Still I remained dumb! Still the same strange spell was 
upon me. As one looks at distant objects through a mist I 
saw them; the sound of their voices — they were both speak- 
ing that strange language — fell upon my ears as the con- 
fused murmuring of some distant stream. 

How long was it? Seconds, minutes or even more than 
minutes; I cannot tell. I seemed to be far from them. I 
could not have interfered had I tried, and the next I knew 
Maurice was sitting down again with Walla crouching upon 
the sand. 


246 


MIRRIKH. 


‘^George! George!'' he called. “Arouse yourself old 
fellow. Merzilla says that God has ordained the sacrifice — 
that it will come in the natural order of events and by no 
act of mine." 

“ Who — what is the matter? " I gasped. “ I feel so very 
odd. I " 

“Hark! Look! Look there!" 

He was pointing down at Walla. 

I looked and instantly realized what was coming. I had 
seen it too often to be deceived! About the girl’s body a 
white cloud was gathering; the unseen beings around us 
were at their work again. 

I was powerless to speak — I could only look. Slowly the 
cloud grew denser, until in an ill-defined way it had as- 
sumed the human shape. Suddenly vanishing then, I next 
saw it upon the sand — there was a form in white between 
Walla and Maurice. It was a woman upon her hands and 
knees. For a few seconds she remained thus, and then shot 
upward and stood before me at her full height. I was gaz- 
ing at a face beautiful beyond description — a face which 
aeons of time would not have sufficed to make me forget. 
Our eyes met, and she glided toward me with outstretched 
arms. How tall and graceful she was! How queenly every 
motion she made! 

“George! My love! My soul's companion! It is I ! I 
have fulfilled my promise! For the last time until you have 
penetrated the veil you behold me. Hope! 

I sprang forward to grasp her, but it was too late! Before 
my extended hands could touch her form she sank down, 
seemingly dissolving into an undefined mass of whitish 
vapor, and I found myself clutching at the empty air. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

CHAOS. 

“ They've gone! By Jove, there ain't a trace of them! 
Boys, we are deserted for a solemn fact." 

It was the Doctor's voice and it came in good time, for 
the strain was more than I could bear. 


MIRRIKH. 


247 


But evidently he had seen nothing of it all, for he came 
hurrying toward us with the lamp in one hand and a big 
earthen pot filled with cooked rice in the other. Upon his 
face I could read despair. 

• It seemed amazing that I should be able to recover my 
equanimity with so much ease, but I answered him as calmly 
as though nothing of an exciting nature had occurred; and 
this with every nerve in my body quivering; this in spite of 
the fact that I was trembling from head to foot. 

As for Maurice, he showed no disposition to interfere. 
The same strange calmness seemed to have come to him as 
to myself. Probably Walla still remained entranced, for she 
neither spoke nor moved. 

“ Then you found things as I told you. Doctor?” 

“Well I should say so! They’ve gone, every mother’s 
son of them, and this pot of rice is all in the way of eat- 
ables left behind. Thought I might as- well freeze on to 
that while there was time, for fear it might be spirited away 
too. But I say, Wylde, how do you suppose they put the 
bridge across the rift? ” 

“ I’m sure I can’t tell you. Have you found out? ” 

“ Found out! No indeed; I’d like to know, though. Time 
was when I should have called it a miracle, but in this 
devil’s den miracles are as plenty as bees about a hive. I 
give it up. Maurice, old man, how do you feel now? ” 

“ Better,” answered Maurice, “ much better, thank you 
Doctor, but I haven’t got my legs yet.” 

“ That will come in time; but look here, my boy, you 
must eat something. Let me warm you up some rice. It’s 
all we have. We may as well view the situation philosophic- 
ally, eat, drink and be merry, for as sure as there is a God 
above us, we are doomed to death by starvation unless help 
reaches us from outside.” 

“ Which,” said I, “is most improbable — still do I hope.” 

“You will hope in vain then. We are in a desperate sit- 
uation, and all owing to me.” 

“ How to you. Doctor? ” asked Maurice. 

“ Do not let us talk about that,” I interposed. “ The 
Doctor is not to blame. I will stir up the fire, and if Mau- 
rice wants the rice he shall have it. Morning will soon be 
here, and perhaps it may bring us good fortune of which we 
little dream^.” 

“ It can’t,” said the Doctor, decidedly. “ The proposi- 


248 


MIRRIKH. 


tion is simply an impossible one. There is only one chance 
for us. The lamas may not have gone for good, but only 
retreated through the passage on the other side of the rift, 
intending to return with the daylight and help us across.’* 

It was but a slender thread to hold to. “ This,” I thought, 

cannot be why I was told to hope.” 

I left the Doctor talking with Maurice, and moving to- 
ward the spot where the argols still smoldered, proceeded 
to stir them up and heap on the few uncharred ones which 
still remained. Still the calmness was upon me. I had 
an ill-defined feeling that in spite of the assurance I had re- 
ceived to the contrary, I should see her again. 

And as I worked the impression grew stronger and 
stronger. I found myself looking behind me; actually 
listening for the rustle of those snowy garments; I could not 
divest my mind of the idea that she was close at hand. 

Was it so? 

God knows! 

All I can say is — and most positively do I affirm it to be a 
solemn fact and no illusion — that then as the sense of near- 
ness increased I heard her voice. 

“ George! Fly to the mouth of the cave! ” it said; “ death 
is close upon you! Lose no time! Fly! Fly! ” 

But why should I have done it when it seemed then as if 
I had no other desire than to join her beyond the veil? 

Surely I was not master of my own actions, for I dropped 
the argols and bounded back to Maurice’s side. 

‘‘We must go! ” I cried excitedly. “We must fly! Some- 
thing is going to happen! There is no time to be lost!” 

“Fly the devil!” burst the Doctor. “Where the deuce 
are we to fly to? Are you going off the handle too, Wylde?” 

I certainly was not myself at that moment, for I made 
him no answer, but seizing Walla, raised her up. She open- 
ed her eyes, staring at me stupidly. 

“ We are going to leave here,” I cried. “ Do you hear 
me? Can you walk? ” 

“ Yes — why not? ” 

“ Keep close to us then. Come, Maurice.” 

“ George, I can’t walk: You will have to carry me.” 

“ Nonsense, Nonsense!” exclaimed the Doctor. “ One 
place is as good as another. Calm yourself, Wylde. Noth- 
ing but trouble can come of giving away to the hojrors of 
our situation like this.” 


MIRRIKH. 


249 


No, no! We are to go! I have had a most vivid im- 
pression of impending danger. For God’s sake, Doctor, 
humor me this once! Help me carry him to the mouth of 
the cave.” 

And then ” 

‘‘Then we shall see. Ah, it has come! Too late! Too 
late! ” 

Something had happened. 

Suddenly the strange cracking sound was heard again, 
and in a second a fearful crash came. 

The next I knew I was flung violently upon the sand; 
crash followed crash, mingling in one hellish roar, until as 
suddenly as it had come upon us all sound ceased. 

We were all upon the sand now — no living creature could 
have stood up against that shock. 

“Look! Look there!” shrieked the Doctor, pointing be- 
hind the stone near which Maurice had sat. 

He was pointing at black vacancy — nothingness! The 
rocky walls had vanished, the cold rain was beating in upon 
us — the unexplored depths of the cavern had disappeared. 

“ Is it an earthquake? ” gasped Maurice. “ Oh, George, 
this is terrible! Terrible! And after we were told to 
hope!” 

I leaped to my feet, for something seemed to tell me that 
all depended upon my coolness now. 

“ We must make for the mouth of the cave,” I shouted. 
“ You see I knew what I was talking about. Doctor; if you 
cannot help me to carry Maurice I must carry him alone.” 

The Doctor never spoke a word but moved toward Mau- 
rice. 

I bade Walla take the rice pot and she seized it, while the 
Doctor and I lifted Maurice upon our interlocked hands, 
that persistent objector obeying my commands as meekly as 
a child. 

“ There is still hope for us.” I said, prophetically. “ Cour- 
age, my friends! We shall yet be saved!” 

God knows why I said it, when there seemed so little 
cause to hope. 

We hurried forward, Walla following in silence; here the 
roof of the cavern was still above us — here there had been 
no change. In a few moments we stood at the very brink 
of the canon with that wild torrent tumbling over the rocks 
at our feet. 


250 


MIRRIKH. 


Now at last my strength failed me. I was as weak as a 
baby when we put Maurice down. 

“ By Jove, but this is tremendous!” gasped the Doctor. 

At least we’ve got a moment to draw our breath in be- 
fore chaos comes.” 

And it’s coming,” I said calmly. 

I believe you! Maurice, your weight is something 
fearful.” 

Maurice staggered to his feet, and catching my arm clung 
to me trembling; yet he was entirely cool. 

This is no earthquake,” he said. I have experienced 
too many shocks since I have been in the East to make a 
mistake.” 

“ But what else then? We are supposed to be on a moun- 
tain — is the mountain tumbling down? ” asked the Doctor. 

It is a wash out of some sort,” I asserted boldly. You 
know we decided some time since that we were in a lime- 
stone region. Doctor; the cavern may have been undermined 
for years for all we know.” 

The Doctor groaned and stared across the rift helplessly. 

Oh, if we were only over there! If we were only over 
there,” he kept saying. How did they do it? How — ah! 
It has come again! This is the last call, boys! Gad! I’ve 
a mind to jump for it. Here goes.” 

I clutched his arm in time and held him back. What he 
proposed could only have been a leap into the great beyond, 
for across the rift was more than thirty feet. 

Meanwhile the loud cracking which had startled him was 
followed by a crash awful beyond all telling, and I saw the 
whole roof of the cavern break away. Great rocks were 
falling all about us; behind, a black gulf had opened; whirl- 
ing down from snow-clad peaks now for the first time visible, 
a mighty wind came sweeping, splashing the rain about as 
though some bursting reservoir had been suddenly emptied 
out upon our devoted heads, but through it all that same 
strange calmness still held its sway. 

‘‘Hope!” I cried, flinging one arm about Maurice who 
was sinking slowly down upon the rocky ledge. “Hope! 
This is not our end.’* 

Hope for what? 

What could save us? 

Yet above that awful din my voice arose loud enough for 
all to hear. 


MIRRIKH. 


25r 

Suddenly the rock upon which we stood began to crumble; 
huge fragments broke away at our very feet and went whirl- 
ing down into the yawning gulf. 

Hope! 

The word was but mockery! 

Chaos would have been more befitting, for chaos had 
surely come! 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

ON THE ROCK. 

“ The sun! The sun! God be praised! We see the sun 
again!’* 

And Maurice De Veber, as he thus exclaimed, stretched 
his hands out toward the eastern horizon, above which the 
first red glow of the sun’s great disk had become visible. 
We watched it in the moments which followed and saw it 
rise above that mighty chain of snow-clad peaks. 

The night had passed away; the storm had fled with the 
dawning of the morning. One by one the stars which had 
appeared only to vanish, faded out of sight, and another day 
was upon us. Chaos had come and was gone again, and we 
were still alive to tell the tale. 

But where were we? 

It will not take long to tell it. Our abiding place is soon 
described. 

We were high in the air, crouching upon a flat surface of 
rock, twenty-three feet in length, sixteen feet, eight inches 
at the widest part — the Doctor measured it — while down to 
the nearest foothold below was a hundred feet, at the very 
least, and this was but a mass of broken rocks and debris, 
with the water on every hand, rushing down the slope like 
mad. 

Do not expect me to tell what had happened. We never 
definitely knew. I feel safe in asserting, however, that it 
was but a cutting away of the limestone rocks on that moun- 
tain slope, caused by the rush of water from the Dshambi- 
nor, which had been pent up in the ravines above us by the 
ice. 


252 


MIRRIKH. 


This, at least, is my idea of it; but it is only an idea. We 
were on the side of a mountain still. The whole country 
seemed to be one vast mountain, broken into ravines and 
separate peaks innumerable; the newly-formed ravine in 
which our pillar stood was wider than most of the others — 
that was all. 

Only on the side of the rift, directly opposite to what had 
before been the mouth of the cave, no change had come. To 
the right,, the left and behind us, the rocks had been torn 
away by that awful washout, landslide — or whatever you 
may be pleased to call it; but directly in front was the 
ledge to which the lamas had crossed, and there, still, the 
hide bridge lay before what had been the mouth of the passage, 
now appearing as a natural arch through which the sunlight 
came streaming, its radiance falling full upon Walla’s up- 
turned face. Walla was upon her knees; she seemed to be 
praying, but whether to the God of the Christians or the 
God of her fathers, I cannot tell. That I rejoiced at the 
welcome sight equally with my friend need not be said. 

Moments passed and I did not answer, but remained gaz- 
ing off upon the sunlit landscape in gloomy silence, for a 
state of deep depression had succeeded my rapturous en- 
thusiasm. Now I could see no possible avenue of escape; 
no cause for hope! 

‘^What are you thinking of, George? demanded Maurice. 

You’re as solemn as an owl. Why don’t you act the true 
philosopher like the Doctor? See how peacefully he is 
sleeping there.” 

It was true. Utterly worn out at last, Philpot had sunk 
off into slumber, and lay stretched out at full length at my 
feet; and this when we were expecting every moment to feel 
the pillar crumbling beneath us and to find ourselves whirl- 
ing down to an awful fate. 

What do you suppose I am thinking of?” I said, sul- 
lenly. 

“ Of the same thing I was; the morning we met Mirrikh 
on the tower of the Nagkon Wat.” 

** Indeed I was not! I only wish I had never known 
Mirrikh. I was thinking of this pillar which is all that 
stands between us and eternity, and wondering if this was 
the way those rock pillars around the grand canon of the 
Colorado were formed.” 

** Like enough; but if you love me do brace up, old man. 


MIRRIKH. 


253 


For my part I don’t care much whether we get out of this or 
not. God knows I could never live as I am.” 

“ Do you know, Maurice, I find it very hard to believe 
you are as you claim to be, now that the sunlight has come. 
In the gloom of the cavern I was able to work myself up to 
it, but now it is a different thing.” 

** 1 wish to God it was different with me then! If 
you could only change places with me for a couple of min- 
utes! You’d know all about it if you could.” 

“Thank you! I’m bad enough off as I am! You were 
able to eat that rice though. Last night you told me that 
your friend Merzilla didn’t like rice.” 

“Don’t — don’t, for heaven’s sake, George! Your lightness 
of speech wounds me dreadfully. Have you forgotten that 
divine creature who rose up before you last night? George, 
you and I no longer are as other men. To deny the exist- 
ence of the spirit now as you denied in our old discussions 
would be but a sorry stand for a man of your common sense 
to take. Look at me, George! As God hears me, I never 
expect to see another earthly sunrise; yet I am happy in 
the thought, for how much brighter — ah, how much brighter 
— the rise into the light of the heavenly sun, the Lord of 
life and light itself; the Alpha and the Omega, the begin- 
ning and the end!” 

A rapt expression had now come upon his countenance, 
he stretched his arms open toward the sun, and bowed low 
before it just as we saw Mr. Mirrikh do on the tower of the 
Nagkon Wat. 

Recalled in a measure to my former mental condition by 
the allusions to the happenings of those strange moments, I 
spoke quite calmly, even lightly, in reply. 

“What? You haven’t turned sun worshipper, Maurice?” 

“ We are all sun worshippers on Mars, George. As the 
natural sun rules the visible world, so does the spiritual sun, 
which is the creative power of the universe, rule the spheres 
innumerable of the world unseen. Sun worship was the 
worship of all primitive peoples, because they possessed 
knowledge in matters spiritual of which we have no concep- 
tion. Thus knowing the harmony existing between things 
natural and things spiritual, they bowed before the natural 
sun as the visible representation of the universal Creator, 
and this even while they worshipped his attributes, his dif- 
fering aspects toward mankind, under a thousand forms,” 


254 


MIRRIKH. 


“ There may be much in what you say; but tell me, Mau- 
rice, when Walla seemed to be controlled and you spoke with 
her — the time you walked, I mean — do you claim that the 
woman was then out of your body and in the body of that 
unfortunate girl? I have had no opportunity to ask you of 
this until now/' 

Claim is hardly the word, George; it was so. But for 
heaven's sake don’t let the Doctor hear.” 

He is sound asleep.” 

** Don’t be too sure.” 

But I am sure,” I answered, when suddenly the Doctor 
raised his head. 

‘Wou are mistaken, George. I am wide awake and listen- 
ing, though I did drop off for awhile. I will not be mean 
enough to listen any longer to your secrets, Maurice, since 
you do not wish me to hear them, but I have heard enough 
already to show me in what particular direction your brain 
disturbance runs.” 

Maurice was furious; it was as much as he could do to re- 
stain himself; as for me, I was sincerely sorry that the subject 
had been brought to the Doctor’s notice. He kept right on 
talking, for neither of us spoke. 

‘‘ You may think that yours is altogether a new disease, 
my boy, but allow me to correct you. It’s as old as Adam, 
whose case is the first on record, and you must admit 
that Adam was a deuced sight better off with Mrs. Eve in- 
side of him than after she was let out to go apple stealing 
and fooling round with snakes, instead of attending to her 
domestic duties, as she should. During the Middle Ages 
such cases were common; and they are not undiscoverable 
now; almost any first-class lunatic asylum ought to produce 
three or four, at least. I remember when I had my last 
charge in London — it was an old church down among the 
watermen, on the very banks of the Thames — for a certain 
reason I’d rather not locate it exactly — there was a man who 
used to bother the life out of me insisting that he had a 
woman inside of him and wanting my advice as to how to 
get her out. I suggested an emetic, but ” 

He paused for he caught the look upon Maurice’s face. 
It was terrible! I knew what my friend was in anger for I 
had seen him angry in the old days at Panompin. He was 
furiously angry now, but before he could explode I inter- 
posed in the interest of peace. 


MIRRIKH. 


255 


For God’s sake Doctor, have a care what you say.” I 
cried. Here we are perched on top of this pinnacle ex- 
pecting to be hurled to death at any moment. Are we to 
spend our last hours in senseless quarrels? Look! Look 
yonder through the arch on the other side of the canon and 
tell me what you see.” 

By Jove! It’s a city!” cried the Doctor. “ It’s Lh’asa!” 

And so it was. I had espied it while the Doctor was 
talking. There, far in the distance, lay the metropolis of the 
Buddhist world. Its low houses of snowy whiteness, inter- 
spersed in every direction with the gilded roofs of numer- 
ous temples, rerninded me not a little of the city I had seen 
in my first Martian vision; high above all towered the ma- 
jestic palace of the Tale Lama. 

If there was any reliance to be placed upon the state- 
ments of geographers, this could be no other city than the 
far-famed Lh’asa. 

And if this was true, then how far were we from Psam- 
dagong? The length of those remarkable underground pas- 
sages must have been greater even than we had supposed. 

But we had ample time to ponder over the problem, for the 
day passed and darkness fell upon us. Still our rock stood 
firm. 

It was a fearful day for me. 

Added to the horrors of our situation was the dissension 
among us and poor Walla’s condition. 

The girl would neither speak nor eat; she would not 
even respond to Maurice, but remained in what I think 
must have been a half entranced condition, muttering in her 
own language at times. At first I thought she was praying, 
but afterward I rather came to doubt it. As for Maurice, 
he positively declined to hold any communication with the 
Doctor — would not even answer him when he offered an 
apology. 

Then again in that old earthen pot we had perhaps five 
pounds of cooked rice and not a drop of water. 

The horrors of thirst were already upon us and starvation 
stared us in the face. 

Long before night came all hope had departed, and I 
prayed most devoutly that the rock might fall and hurl us 
to our doom. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


MIRRIKH ONCE MORE. 

It was a glorious night. The moon was at her full, the 
vault above us ablaze with stars innumerable. Far in the 
distance, through that natural archway, we could discern the 
twinkling lights of Lh’asa. 

Midnight came and found Maurice slumbering. Not 
again had the transformation come upon him. If his claim 
was true and a female spirit from our sister planet was 
united with his own, then like a sensible creature she had 
kept in the background. Walla’s condition remained as be- 
fore. The Doctor and I sat together, conversing in low 
tones. 

Under these circumstances I consider suicide perfectly 
justifiable, even admitting a hereafter,” Philpot was saying. 
“ To-morrow will have afforded Padma ample time for any 
move he may intend to make, if indeed he intends any. If 
by this time to-morrow help has not come, the dawning of 
another day will not find me here, Wylde. I shall take my 
chances and discount the future, if I can muster up the 
courage to make the fatal plunge.” 

“ In a case like this every man must decide for himself,” 
I replied gloomily; “but for my part all doubts of an ex- 
istence beyond the grave have vanished. Our lives were 
certainly not given us to throw away, and I shall stick it out 
to the end.” 

“But think of the horrors of starvation; think ” 

He suddenly ceased to speak; his head fell forward on 
his breast, his eyes closed, his face became as white as death. 

“ Doctor! Doctor! ” I cried, springing to my feet. I was 
in the act of bending over him when I heard that gentle 
voice in my ear, and a hand was softly brushed across my 
brow. 

“ Do not interfere with our work, George. Help is at 
hand. Remain perfectly passive or you will spoil it all.” 

Not since the last time I heard the voice in the cave had 
I experienced anything which I could ascribe to a spiritual 


MIRRIKH. 


257 


origin. Once more I was seized with that same sense of 
security; that same immeasureable calmness. Involuntarily 
I found myself repeating a single word, over and over again. 

“ Hope! ” I kept murmuring. Hope! ’’ 

I turned and looked behind me. 

Maurice still slumbered. Walla crouched near him, her 
head bent forward, and there — oh God! there it was again — 
there was that bounding globe of light at her feet. 

Hope! 

I did hope now! 

Silently I prayed that God might give his spirit messen- 
gers power to help us in this the hour of our sore distress. 

I watched the light. It came and went. There seemed 
to be unusual difficulty in repeating the process which I had 
so often seen; but it came at last, and I saw at Walla’s feet 
a man who was certainly not Maurice, nor yet the Doctor. 
He was crouching upon his hands and knees. By no 
human power could he have come unknown to me upon the 
rock. 

Breathlessly I watched him; saw him writhe and twist 
about as though in agony, and then at last rise up with a 
spring and stand before me as perfect a man as I was my- 
self. 

One glance at his face was sufficient. It was a face yellow 
above and black below. There were those wondrous 
eyes gazing upon me with that same look of profound intel- 
ligence, that same calm assurance of power over me — over 
us all. It was the man I had met at Panompin, it was my 
friend Mirrikh. Least of all I had expected this. Had 
help come to me from the realms of material space? Had 
my prayer been heard in Mars? 

Then he spoke — spoke in phrases which proved most 
conclusively that he possessed the power to read my very 
thoughts. 

Friend Wylde, I greet you!” he said, extending his 
hand, which I took in both of mine, finding it as surely flesh 
and blood as my own. Gradually you are progressing on 
the higher planes of Nature’s secrets. Know that time and 
space are but imaginary limitations. From the most distant 
of those glittering points above us I could come to you as 
easily as I have come from my home in Mars. 

I tried to reply, but my voice seemed to die away into an 
incoherent murmur. 


MIRRIKH. 


258 

Withdrawing his hand he now produced a sealed letter 
which he laid in mine. 

Your safe conduct from Thibet/’ he said quietly. ^Tt 
was an oversight on my part. Padma has all the prejudices 
of his people; moreover he fears for himself. He has indeed 
betrayed you. Your presence on this rock is known, and 
the sentence of death has been already pronounced against 
you. You are to be shot down where you stand, one by 
one; but this will protect you and carry you safely beyond 
the frontier. Look toward the city and you will understand 
that I speak truly in this.” 

He raised his hand, making quick passes before my eyes. 
Then as I looked through the arch, distance became as naught. 
I could see with the most astonishing distinctness. I was 
at the very gates of Lh’asa. 

‘‘ You see the city? ” he asked. 

** I do, most plainly. It is precisely as if I were looking 
through a powerful telescope. I am there.” 

Look again! Look at the foot of the mountain! ” 

Now suddenly I seemed to be looking down from a 
height upon a broad roadway, along which a troop of per- 
haps fifty armed men were trudging. They were dressed in 
the well-known costume of the Chinese military, and at the 
head of the procession the dragon flag floated. 

“For you,” he said. “In less than half an hour they 
will be beneath the arch. Present my letter to the com- 
mander and have no fear.” 

I inclined my head in dumb assent. I could not speak. 
Still he read my thoughts. 

“To permit you to talk to me, Mr. Wylde, would only be 
to have objections raised, and each objection is just so 
much of a hinderance to my work. It is for this reason 
that we have entranced the Doctor and even thrown our 
dear friend into slumber. My time is short. I cannot waste 
the forces drawn from that poor girl to produce this body, 
for she is reserved for another work, which, strange as it may 
seem to you, is as much for her eternal welfare as for the good 
of those whom she will materially assist. Ask me your 
question now, I see it burning in your brain, but after that 
do not speak unless you would destroy all your chances of 
escape. In its way my power is as limited as your own.” 

“ Maurice! Tell me! ” I burst. “ Did he actually go to 
Mars? Did I? Did ” 


MIRRIKH. 


259 


“ Stop! This is idle. You know it is so! ” 

But the other? Is Maurice’s claim true? Is there act- 
ually within that body another soul than his? ” 

“It is true. Behold!” 

“ Not the soul! ” 

“ No, no; not the soul! No man, no spirit, none but God 
himself can see the soul. Look at the Doctor and you will 
understand what I mean.” 

Again his hand passed before my eyes and they rested upon 
the Doctor. To my astonishment I saw that he was not alone. 
Above him stood a man’s form, dim and shadowy, with wolf- 
ish face and hideous bulging eyes. He held his hands above 
the Doctor’s head. 

“ It is the spirit which holds him in control,” said Mir- 
rikh. “ It is a spirit which is ever with him, ever will be 
until he rises out of his sphere of intense selfishness, if happi- 
ly that times ever comes; but this is not what I would have 
you see. Look at the Doctor himself.” 

Again I looked. I could see the whole internal organ- 
ism of the Doctor’s body, but not singly, as I should have 
supposed. I could see the heart busy with its ceaseless toil; 
I could detect every rise and fall of the lungs; I could look 
into his stomach, perceive its emptiness, and even feel its 
cravings; more wonderful than all, I could see the myste- 
rious workings of each convolution of the brain, from which 
seemed to dart myriads of tiny sparks. At a single glance 
my eyes seemed capable of following these through the ex- 
tension of every nerve in his body, and at the same time 
seeing that everything upon which they rested had its dup- 
licate. There were two Doctors; one gross and material, 
the other thin, airy, most highly refined; but there was no 
other difference between them. If one was a man, then so 
also was the other. Not an organ, not a muscle, not even the 
most minute fibre which was not perfectly reproduced. 

“ It is the spiritual man you behold,” said Mirrikh. “Until 
the heart ceases to beat, it remains enchained. Its life is 
eternal, it destruction as impossible as for you to tear one of 
yonder stars from heaven; and as it is with the Doctor, so 
also is it with every man on earth. But look now at Mau- 
rice and behold a mystery unfathomable to your Western 
schools of thought.” 

Instantly my eyes were upon Maurice. 


26 o 


MIRRIKH. 


Here my experience with the Doctor was repeated, but 
with a difference. 

With wonderful distinctness I could discern the spiritual 
prototype of my friend, but there, mingled with it so 
strangely that I was unable to detect where one began and 
the other ended, was a complete duplication of every por- 
tion of the spiritual Maurice. I could see them separately, 
yet were they blended incomprehensibly. One was Maurice 
but the other was a woman. I could see her face with per- 
fect plainess. More than that, I recognized her. It was 
the woman whom I had seen standing beside Maurice on 
Mars. 

Now Mirrikh waved his hand and all this vanished. I 
was looking on his face again. 

‘‘You believe now? ** 

“I cannot do otherwise — I must believe.*’ 

“ It is well that you do, for it is written that you must 
write, that those who will may read. The time is close at 
hand when a flood of spiritual light is to be poured upon 
the earth, arousing the Eastern adepts from their selfish 
lethargy; light before which the agnosticism of the West 
will melt away like snow before an April sun. Yours is the 
mission, friend Wylde, to in some slight degree aid in the 
coming of the light. It has already begun to shine, but it 
must be made to shine brighter and brighter still, until 
darkness is wholly banished, and men, as in the days of 
old, know Nature’s secrets as the dwellers beyond the veil 
know them; know each other, not as they would seem to be, 
but as they are.” 

“ God grant that I may be faithful to the trust!” I mur- 
mured. 

“ Have no fear. Your work is but as the work of one of 
the minutest fibres in the body whose interiors you have 
just seen. Help will be given you when help is needed. In 
the words of Jesus the Christ, I say unto you: “ Watch and 
pray! The time is close at hand.” 

He ceased to speak and walked with firm tread toward 
the rift — that awful rift through which the water went rush- 
ing with its sullen roar. 

To my continued amazement I saw that the break offered 
no obstacle to his progress. He seemed to float rather than 
walk across it. In an instant I beheld him on the other 
side. Silently, and with a sense of profound confidence in 


MIRRIKH. 


261 


his power, I watched him. He bent over the strips of hide 
and examined them with care, straightening up at last and 
looking toward me. 

“Wylde,*’ he called, “ I am very sorry, but I find that 
it is going to take more force than I supposed to accomplish 
my purpose. My dear friend, I had intended that you 
should witness what I am about to do, but I must ask you 
to look the other way.’* 

Then before I could reply, some influence more powerful 
than my own will forced me to turn my head. 

It seemed but a moment, and in that moment a strange 
rush of sound swept past me. 

“ Look, Mr. Wylde! It is done!” 

I turned. 

The bridge was stretched across the rift and Mirrikh 
stood at my side. 

“ The way lies open before you,” he said. “ Save your- 
self, save your friends. Be faithful in the use God has 
given you to perform. I shall ever think of you with kindly 
remembrance. Farewell!” 

He extended his hand; I grasped it warmly. As I did 
so his feet and limbs seemed to dissolve and he began slowly 
sinking down — I was forced to stoop low in order to retain 
my hold upon the hand. 

In another instant the body was gone, the head and the 
hand I grasped alone remaining. 

“Farewell!” the familiar voice exclaimed, and then the 
head vanished also. 

I looked at my hand, for I still felt the grasp of his. 

Delusion! 

My hand was empty. 

My friend Mirrikh had disappeared. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ACROSS THE RIFT. 

“Maurice! Maurice! Wake up!” 

“What’s the row?” muttered Maurice. “’Taint time for 
the breakfast bell yet, mother. Do leave a fellow alone.” 
As space had been obliterated when my friend Mr, 


262 


MIRRIKH. 


Mirrikh made me see Lh'asa, so now with Maurice was time 
without existence. His dreams were of his mother; he was 
a boy again; his spirit, untrammeled, was living in the so- 
called past. And what is the past to man but a mental 
condition — a state? Free to act, how perfectly the spirit is 
able to resuscitate it. Maurice certainly saw his mother — 
in his dream. 

‘‘ Come, come, old fellow! Wake up! Wake up,*' I re- 
peated. “ This is no time for dreaming. We have work to 
do. Wake up, Maurice. We are to be saved!'* 

He leaped to his feet and began staggering about the 
rock. I caught him by the shoulder and held him fast, 
fearful lest he should totter over into the abyss. 

‘‘ Are you awake? Do you know that you are walking? " 
I demanded. 

The instant I called his attention to the fact he sank 
down and declared he could not walk a step. 

“ What is the matter, George? I feel so queer? " 

‘‘ Worse than before? " 

‘‘Altogether different. I feel elated. Somehow I seem 
to have a profound assurance that I shall soon be let out of 
my awful fix." 

“ God grant it; but look, Maurice. Look there! What do 
you see?" 

“ Merciful heaven! It is the bridge!" 

“It is nothing else!" I cried triumphantly; “and look at 
this? " 

I extended the letter. 

“ What is it, George? " 

“ Our safe conduct beyond the frontiers of Thibet." 

Maurice gave a quick gasp. 

“ Mirrikh has been here," he breathed. “ I knew it! He 
promised me and I knew he would keep his word. The 
laying of the bridge across the rift was his work." 

“You are right! Mirrikh has been here. Maurice, that 
man is deserving of all your enthusiasm. He is indeed a 
most wonderful individual." 

“Wonderful! He’s a right good fellow, but there is 
nothing very extraordinary about him. There are thousands 
of just such men on Mars. Oh George! Why, why didn’t 
you wake me? I shall never forgive myself for not 
having seen him. I counted on him to tell me what the 
deuce I am to do about Merzilla, and now it is too late!" 


MIRRIKH. 


263 

“He would not permit it, Maurice. He came up at 
Walla’s feet, but he would not let me wake you. Said you 
had been made to sleep soundly on purpose, as he needed 
all the power he could gather to lay the bridge.” 

“ But how did he do it? ” 

“ Don’t ask me. I was not allowed to witness the oper- 
ation. All I can tell you is that he went across that canon 
as though it was solid rock.” 

“ Pooh! That’s nothing. They do that floating in the 
air business right along, on Mars. All it requires is perfect 
faith; but about my affairs — did he leave any message for 
me, George?” 

“ He left his kindest regards. He told me that all had 
been arranged for your relief.” 

“ But how? Did he say?” 

“ Upon that point he was indefinite.” 

“ Confound his indefiniteness. I want — hold on! The 
Doctor is waking up.” 

He was right. At that moment Philpot’s eyes opened; he 
stared stupidly, first at me, then at Maurice, then at the rift; 
springing up at last with a cry of surprise. 

“Gad! The bridge! Padma has returned! We are 
saved!” And without waiting for me to answer he started 
across the rift. 

“ Selfish pig!” muttered Maurice in a tone of disgust. 

I watched him breathlessly. Secretly I rejoiced that I 
had not been called upon to be the first, for the bridge 
was but a shaky affair at best, being simply long strips of 
hide laid close together with cross strips plaited in. There 
was no guard of any kind, not even a rope. 

It creaked horribly as the Doctor trod upon it; worse still 
it took to swaying. I turned away in terror, expecting to 
see him dashed into the abyss. 

“ He can never do it,” I murmured, when a shout told 
me that he was safely on the other side. 

Then I opened my batteries upon him, upbraiding him for 
his selfish act. 

“ Hush! Hush,” whispered Maurice. “ For heaven’s sake 
control yourself, George! Will it pay for us to get up a 
quarrel at a time like this?” 

“ Can’t help it, Wylde,” called the Doctor coolly. “ If I 
had thought twice I shouldn’t have done it, but I acted on 


264 


MTRRIKH. 


impulse and here I am, and here you can bet your bottom 
dollar I mean to stay.’* 

“ Better say you followed the promptings of some selfish 
devil you keep around you!” 

My thoughts were upon what I had seen, but of course 
he did not understand. 

“ Take it easy! Take it easy,” he called back. “ If you 
had been civil about it I might have repented and come 
over again to help you with Maurice. You had better join 
me and stop your talk. The first you know the thing will 
tumble into the rift.” 

I had not thought of Maurice’s condition until now. 

“In heaven’s name what are you to do.^” I gasped. “ You 
can never walk across.” 

“Never!” 

“ Nor can I carry you. Oh Maurice, we are as badly off 
as ever.” 

“ Better get Walla over and leave me to my fate, George,” 
he answered gloomily. “ There is no help for it as matters 
stand. Perhaps you can get help once you are across.” 

“ I shall never leave you,” I replied firmly. “ Maurice 
don’t you think you might do it if you tried?” 

“ It is impossible.” 

“ But — what’s the matter?” 

“ Hush! hush,” he whispered, raising his hand suddenly. 
‘‘ Merzilla is speaking. She says for you to take Walla and 
leave me. She assures me that it will be all right.” 

“ No, no! I shall not do it.” 

“ But you must; Merzilla orders it.” 

“You may feel it necessary to obey her — I do not.” 

“ George, I beseech you! For God’s sake do not refuse 
me!” 

“ Maurice, it is useless. My resolve is taken. Until I 
know that you are safe across the rift I shall remain where I 
am.” 

“ Oh what can I say?” he cried. “ What can I say to 
make you yield?” 

“ Come on, Wylde? Don’t be a fool! We couldn’t have 
carried him over anyhow. Come on, and we will go for 
help,” shouted the Doctor. 

But I never answered him, for creeping over Maurice’s 
face I saw the change come again. 

It was no longer Maurice who looked at me — it wa» the 


MIRRIKH. 265 

face of the woman, if I ever saw a woman’s face in this 
world. 

More perfectly than before was it transfigured and it 
turned toward me pleadingly; again I was addressed in that 
unknown tongue. 

God knows what she said, but her manner was unmistak- 
able. She pointed toward the bridge, at Walla, at me. 

There could be no doubt whatever that she was beseech- 
ing me to yield; but I was still stubborn and would not. 
Seeing determination in my face she caught my hand and 
kissed it again and again — she even grovelled at my feet, 
crying out in agony, pleading in unintelligible words. 

‘‘ You see how it is, Wylde. He’s off the handle again!” 
called the Doctor. “ That settles it. You can do nothing 
now but save yourself if you have a grain of common sense 
left.” 

Still I should have remained firm to my purpose if I had 
not distinctly heard that well-remembered voice in my ear. 

^‘Do it, George! Do it at once and trust in God!” 

I felt that I could hesitate no longer. 

“ How is that thing fastened on your side?” I shouted to 
the Doctor. Is there an iron peg, the same as here?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Will it bear both Walla and myself? I cannot leave the 
poor creature to cross alone.” 

I should say it might; it seemed strong enough, but the 
swing is something terrible. You had better leave the girl 
till we can get help.” 

I paid no heed to this, but bent down and shook Walla 
gently. She had never even lifted her head since the ap- 
pearance of Mirrikh upon the rock. Now, however, she re- 
sponded, and looking up asked me what I wanted. I raised 
her and pointed to the bridge. 

Instantly she clapped her hands to her face and began 
sobbing. 

“ Ah, it has come! I saw it all in my dreams!” she mur- 
mured. “ It is to be my fate!” 

“ No, no! You will be saved! I shall help you to cross. 
Come, Walla. We are to go now.” 

‘‘ Let me say good bye. I know that I shall see him 
again, but now all looks so dark — so dark!” 

She uncovered her face and moved toward Maurice, but 
drew back before she had taken three steps.” 


266 


MIRRIKH. 


No, no! I want nothing to do with you!’* she hissed. 
“ But for you he would have loved me!” 

The answer came promptly. Though the words were past 
my comprehension, the tone was one of kindly pity. It 
seemed to have no effect upon Walla, however, for with a 
gesture of disgust she turned away and caught my hand. 

‘‘Come,” she whispered. “Come! My father is over 
there! He is beckoning to me. Come — come! We must 
go!” 

And we started, but I did not dare to look at Maurice. 

“I will surely come back again if nothing turns up to help 
him,” I murmured, as I planted my foot upon the][bridge. 

For the first few seconds I almost feared that I had over- 
estimated my courage. Though the bridge was wide enough 
for us to walk abreast the sway of the hides was fearful. 

I closed my eyes, clutched Walla’s hand despairingly and 
pushed on. 

“Courage!!’ roared the Doctor. “Courage! you are 
almost over, George! ” 

My eyes opened; perhaps three feet remained — it could 
not be more than four — but those swaying hides would rock 
like mad. 

Steadying myself as best I could, never daring to drop 
my eyes to the waters which surged below me, I plunged 
madly on — I had almost made it — the Doctor’s right hand 
even grasped my left, when suddenly Walla slipped, fell for- 
ward, and in a twinkling was off our frail support. 

Oh God, banish the memory of that moment! 

I saw her fall; I saw her head strike the ragged edges of 
those merciless rocks, but thanks to the Doctor’s strong 
hand, I held on. 

She never gave one cry. Never again did I hear the 
sound of her voice. 

“ Hold on, George! Hold on! Keep cool, old man! 
Slowly now! Slowly! I may be a selfish pig, but by God I 
am not going to let go your hand! ” 

Oh the horror of it! The black, unspeakable horror! 

I had one foot on the hides and one foot on the rocks, 
my body was bent till my head was below the bridge, but 
still I held on, hearing the Doctor’s voice as though it were 
miles away; seeing that white, upturned face, over which the 
blood went trickling, gazing imploringly up from the depths 













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MIRRIKH. 269 

with eyes which seemed to look through me, beyond me, far 
away into the bright realms of the unseen! 

But the Doctor held on like a Trojan, while I, with all 
my strength, pulled her up; raised her until he could grasp 
her other arm, and somehow we managed to lay her on the 
rocks. 

“ She’s a goner, poor thing! That blow on the temple 
did it! ” ^ 

Thus the Doctor; but I scarcely heard him. I stag- 
gered back a few steps, stretched out my hands toward 
Maurice, whose face I could dimly discern upon the other 
side of the rift; and then — why then I had no existence — I 
was obliterated. Chaos had come once more! 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

“behold, I SHOW YOU A MYSTERY ! ** 

I WAS dreaming of Hope! I was at her side; together we 
were floating through realms of boundless space. 

But it was not as it had been before. It was just as vivid, 
just as real, and yet there was a difference. I gazed into her 
eyes, I stretched out my hands to grasp her, but clutched at 
the empty air. 

“ No, George; not now! ” I heard her say. “All danger 
has passed, and many useful years lie before you. Return 
to your work, but before I remove my power from your brain 
I would have you behold the workings of a mighty mystery 
— a mystery which concerns that mightiest of all mysteries — 
the human soul.” 

Then I thought she bent forward and kissed me, but 
when once more I tried to throw my arms about her, she 
was not there. 

Nor was I the light and airy being which in fancy I had 
thought myself. 

I was lying upon the rocks looking at the Doctor, power- 
less to move or speak. 

Evidently he considered me simply in a faint, and had left 
me to look out for myself while he attended to Walla. 


270 


MIRRIKH. 


He had his ear against her heart when I first saw him, 
while his fingers pressed her pulse; but in a moment he 
stood up, muttering a single word. 

‘‘ Dead! 

With all my might I tried to call out to him, but in vain. 

Again he returned to the charge, and this time the ex- 
amination was most searching. 

Once more he rose up, muttering: 

Dead as a door nail! 

Then instead of turning to me, as one might naturally have 
supposed he would do, he stood gazing down upon Walla’s 
face. 

What did he see? What did he read in those white, silent 
features? 

God knows! I only know what I saw, and, be it real, or 
be it but a dream, my eyes actually beheld what I am about 
to relate. 

Above Walla hovered two females in snow white garments, 
with faces pure and refined beyond description. They 
seemed to be busy about her head; their hands moved with 
incredible rapidity. 

For several moments, it seemed to me, I continued to 
watch them, then suddenly they rose into the air and with 
them rose Walla, perfect even to the smallest shred of her 
garments; yet another Walla remained stretched upon the 
rocks. 

‘‘She is dead! These are ministering angels taking her 
spirit away,” I thought; when all at once something white 
seemed to flit across my vision, and to my utter amazement 
I beheld the woman whom I had seen standing by the side 
of Maurice on Mars, settling down over Walla’s earthly form. 

“ It is Merzilla! She is seeking a body! ” flashed over 
me, and I remembered Maurice’s words. 

For an instant she appeared to hover over Walla, her 
fingers moving like lightning. To me it seemed as though 
she were drawing from her own brain a silvery thread which 
she conveyed to the brain of the corpse. 

Still I watched her. Still the work continued. The 
length of the thread was tremendous. It seemed as if miles 
upon miles of it had been unwound. 

Would she never cease? 

Just as I asked myself the question, I heard the Doctor’s 
voice shouting in my ear. 


MIRRIKH. 


271 


“A miracle! By Jove! A miracle! Wylde! Oh Wylde! ** 

I sprang up and tremblingly caught his arm. 

Walla! I gasped. ‘‘ Walla? Does she live? ” 

** Look! I swear to you that a moment ago Walla was 
dead; but now look! ** 

Walla had risen to her feet, but over the face had come a 
wondrous change. 

Walla! 

But was it Walla? 

Upon this point I prefer not to commit myself. 

All I know is that where Walla’s skin was dark, the face 
of the woman before me became as light as any blonde I 
ever saw. Where Walla’s hair was jet Wack, the hair upon 
the head at which I now looked, I saw change to a light 
brown. As for the face — but enough! I shall say it boldly. 
I saw every feature of that face transformed. It was no 
longer Walla Benjow upon whom we gazed. It was the 
woman I had seen on Mars! 


CHAPTER XXX. 

CONCLUSION. 

‘‘A miracle!” roared the Doctor; yet again. “Wylde, 
I’m as mad as the rest of you! By Jove! Did you see it? 
I swear to you man, she was dead.” 

But Walla — shall I call her Walla still? — paid not the 
slightest attention to. us. 

“Maurice! Maurice!” she shouted, running toward the 
edge of the precipice with outstretched hands, calling out 
when she reached it, in that unknown tongue. 

I looked across the rift at Maurice. 

Fearful was the change which had come over his face. 

“ Don’t look at me, George Wylde!” he shouted. “ Don’t 
look at me, man! I did not do it! I swear to God I had 
no hand in Walla’s death!” 

Still, in spite of his prohibition, I might have looked at 
him — might even have attempted to argue the point when 
he reached my side, for already he had started, walking as 


272 


MIRRIKH. 


well as he ever walked, across the swaying bridge. In short, 
it is quite impossible to tell what I might or might not have 
done, had a not sharp exclamation from the Doctor warned 
me that still another change had come. 

It was a light flashing beneath the arch. 

There stood a man in Chinese dress holding in one hand 
a lantern, in the other the dragon flag. 

Instantly I recognized him as the man who had headed 
the procession which Mirrikh showed me at the foot of 
the mountain, and I knew that the time for transcendental 
reflection had passed, never to return. 

By Jove! There’s a whole troop of them!” gasped the 
Doctor. “ The jig is up just as we’ve got everything fixed. 
We’ll be marched off to the Tale Lama and be beheaded as 
sure as fate.” 

By this time Maurice was over the bridge and had flung 
his arms about — well, I suppose I might as well begin, and 
say Merzilla. 

‘‘ Speak to them, George. They are all Chinamen!” he 
cried. “ Now is the time to see if Mirrikh ’s letter is any 
good.” 

Through the arch they came pouring, with a hideous din 
of beating tom-toms and a formidable display of glistening 
spears. 

I pulled out the letter, glancing hastily at the line of Thi- 
betan characters inscribed upon it, and bowing low, laid it 
in the hand of the fat Celestial who came shambling toward 
us, evidently being in command. 

He glared at me and then opened the letter — we watched 
him. 

To save my soul from perdition I could not remember a 
solitary word of Chinese, though I had rather prided myself 
upon my pure Pekinese accent in the old days at Swatow. 

Slowly he read the letter through to the end, and then, 
with a changed expression, bowed low before us — so low 
that the glass ball on his cap almost touched the rock. 

“ Peace be unto you, my lords lamas! These children of 
the Flowery Kingdom are at your disposal. May your path 
to the frontier be strewn with roses, and long life and much 
happiness await you in your native land!” 


MIRRIKH. 


273 


Years have passed. 

I write these lines not upon Thibetan territory, but amid 
the most prosaic surroundings. I am in my bedroom in the 
house of my friend, Maurice De Veber. As I glance from 
my window I can see only other windows opposite, while 
the roar of the city penetrates the lowered upper sash. 

Need I say that I am back in New York? 

Scarcely. 

For the true New Yorker there is but one city — his own. 

Mirrikh’s letter proved to be all that he had promised — 
but no more. 

We never came any nearer to Lh’asa than the foot of the 
mountain. 

Without an adventure worth narrating, we were escorted 
hurriedly to the frontier, and as the Doctor expressed it, 
promptly fired across.” 

At last we found ourselves safe in Mandalay, from whence 
the journey to Calcutta was just nothing at all. And I 
learned from our conductor that to a certainty would we 
have met death but for that piece of paper which came so* 
strangely into my hands. 

At Calcutta, Doctor Philpot left us, and from that day 
to this I have never seen him, although we still occasionally 
correspond. The last I heard he was in Australia. He 
never makes the slightest allusion in his letters to our Thi- 
betan experiences; although he writes in the most friendly 
spirit, and repeatedly refers to “the pleasant days at the 
Nagkon Wat.” 

One word more. The Doctor is preaching again. He 
has a charge at Wagga-Wagga, I think it is; I have mislaid 
his last letter and am not quite sure about the name. If 
his nature has changed I am not aware of it. Certainly his 
letters are written in the same light vein which ever charac- 
terized the man from the first hour of our meeting upon the 
tower stairs. 

So much for the Doctor. 

Concerning Maurice and his companion I have only this 
to say: he calls her Merzilla and speaks to her in a language 
which certainly is not one of the tongues of earth. 

She is much like ordinary women and can now speak 
English, but seldom uses it in addressing her husband. 

Maurice married her in Calcutta and she signed the 


274 


MIRRIKH. 


register Merzilla Layakwoma, giving her residence, etc., as 
Thibet. 

Most surely is she a lady, and a highly intelligent one; 
most decidedly are they the happiest married couple I 
ever knew. But one thing mars their happiness. As yet 
there are no olive plants about their table. Maurice says 
there never will be any. Probably he is right. 

As for myself, I live with these, my friends, for I have no 
others, unless, indeed, it is the Doctor — but stay, there is 
Mr. Mirrikh! Have I not a friend on Mars? 

The thought is stupendous! 

For years I could not pluck up courage to brave the sneers 
of the skeptical and follow Mirrikh’s injunction; but at 
last I put myself down to the task, and for better or worse 
launch my strange story upon the world. 

This done, I await the result with a calrnness amounting 
almost to indifference. 

I have done my part, and have but one ambition now — to 
meet her beyond the veil. 

To those who have followed me through my strange ad« 
ventures, I can express my state of mind in a single word. 

Hope! 


THK KNI). 


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